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Near to where I live, there is a pretty big river that splits and reforms more times than I can count. Althugh it's surrounded by the blacks of asphalt and grays of concrete, migratory birds left-behind often come to take a dip in the shallow, and quite filthy waters.
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Near to one of my schools, there is a discount, franchise bookstore. Upon one of the corners of this monster of a homewrecker, pigeons scoff at their human enemies by comfortable resting upon the very impaling-death-spikes that are meant to keep them off. The are the yoga-masters of the fowl-world.
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