by Sharon Chmielarz
The male’s insistent woo-wooing, stalking a female, shows off his big head, feathered mane. But she isn’t interested? She wobbles ahead, ignoring him. She must not be lonely. Maybe she has other pigeon friends. Maybe she’s the most popular pigeon in the park, with dozens of males who call after her, woo-woo. He’s gaining on her down the path. Is it artifice? —She lifts her wings and flies away. Really! How can she resist? It’s spring, every groin in this park is throbbing. Unless... she’s a passionate pigeon but modest, and waits for him in a nest, a throaty mistress. Coo-coo. Ah! But he doesn’t follow. So Victorian, to join her later in the evening, violets in hand...