And suddenly it is exactly as it wasn't.
I sat on a park bench eating a cinnamon bun when the fifth pidgeon in as many quarter-hours landed on my shoulder.
Moose: I say, what do you find quite so attractive about this cinnamon bun that you should confront the risk of my swatting you senseless with my palm by landing on my shoulder? I have been to this park many times with other baked goods and hardly found them capable of attracting birds further than the fingertips.
As I said this, I took a bit of the cinnamon bun and fed the bird.
Pidgeon: You carry your shoulder so very calmly and evenly, sir, that it seems but natural for us to want to perch about it.
Moose: I assure you, I carry my shoulder no more evenly than my friend Curtis over yonder, and he...
But as I looked, Curtis was befriending a squirrel by holding a piece of muffin over its head. I watched their motionless, unspoken banter for a minute before I spoke.
Moose: Curtis! Aren't you ever going to drop the muffin to the squirrel? Or are you simply going to stand there and wait for it to crawl onto your hand before you'll let it see so much as a crumb?
Curtis: I haven't decided, unfortunately. I imagine by the time I decide the muffin will be long gone...
Moose: How so?
Curtis: Well, I am quite hungry myself.
Moose: Then shouldn't you tell the poor squirrel that? It's standing before you as though you're its bloody creator or something...
Curtis: You know, you're not the first to have advised me to tell it...
Moose: Because it would only be fair for it to know.
Curtis: Alright then, I shall. Squirrel, I have yet to decide whether or not to drop this muffin in front of you. In fact, I think it rather possible that I will have eaten the muffin by nightfall before you see so much as a crumb.
The squirrel, downcast, sulked behind a tree.
Curtis: There you have it, Moosey, I have told the squirrel. And where does that put me? I can't eat this muffin now... there is too painful a memory attached to it. And I can't toss it to the squirrel - it would be a violation of my word, and it would defeat the entire purpose of the whole thing.
Moose: Pardon my saying so, but who goes to the park with a purpose?
Curtis: Oh, lots of people go to the park with a purpose. Most people, in fact. Usually a reason based in religion, I suppose... charity to all of God's creation in the form of tossing bits of baked goods to the local small animals so they grow portly and dependent and lose their natural skill for foraging.
Moose: I am inclined to believe, though, that most people haven't a clue why they go to the park, and go in search of an answer.
Curtis: And are you such a person?
Moose: Yes, I am.
Curtis: And what have you found?
Moose: I have found that the feeding of these animals is a steady deterioration of will on their part. It began with one adventurous pidgeon approaching me fearless - for no matter how I tried, I could not chase one down - and myself remaining perfectly still as I brought it pastries. But seeing this reduced the fear of the other pidgeons: here was this one pidgeon, no different from the rest, eating nearly from my fingertips, and no harm came to it. And so now I can be strolling aimlessly with a cinnamon bun in hand and a pidgeon much like the one here will land on my shoulder.
Pidgeon: Excuse me, but you seem to have the situation rather backwards.
Moose: I beg your pardon?
Pideon: Yes, quite. We never feared you - one could tell from your first entrance to the park that you wouldn't so much as harm a beetle on the pathway. But you once cared far too much. One hardly likes to take what is eagerly given.
Moose: What's this! Hardly so.
Curtis: On the contrary, Moose - would not your parents be more than obliging to keep you at home and send you to college at their expense? And yet you look to flee their grasp to Montreal.
Pidgeon: Exactly. So when it became more of a challenge, a situation where we felt we could take without appearing needy, that's when we came. Few like to be seen accepting help - many tolerate it, but precious few enjoy it. It's a sign of weakness, and this is nature. Nature thrives on vanquishing weakness.
The squirrel had returned to Curtis' feet, staring up at him.
Curtis: This muffin is all I have to offer...
Pidgeon: All he has to offer! How quickly civilization turns one's priorities on end! Food, water, shelter, that's what it comes down to. That squirrel knows it as well as any other animal in this park. Mark my words, you humans are going to destroy yourselves someday. You're trying to hard not to be like us, and that shall be the death of you.
Moose: I say, what do you find quite so attractive about this cinnamon bun that you should confront the risk of my swatting you senseless with my palm by landing on my shoulder? I have been to this park many times with other baked goods and hardly found them capable of attracting birds further than the fingertips.
As I said this, I took a bit of the cinnamon bun and fed the bird.
Pidgeon: You carry your shoulder so very calmly and evenly, sir, that it seems but natural for us to want to perch about it.
Moose: I assure you, I carry my shoulder no more evenly than my friend Curtis over yonder, and he...
But as I looked, Curtis was befriending a squirrel by holding a piece of muffin over its head. I watched their motionless, unspoken banter for a minute before I spoke.
Moose: Curtis! Aren't you ever going to drop the muffin to the squirrel? Or are you simply going to stand there and wait for it to crawl onto your hand before you'll let it see so much as a crumb?
Curtis: I haven't decided, unfortunately. I imagine by the time I decide the muffin will be long gone...
Moose: How so?
Curtis: Well, I am quite hungry myself.
Moose: Then shouldn't you tell the poor squirrel that? It's standing before you as though you're its bloody creator or something...
Curtis: You know, you're not the first to have advised me to tell it...
Moose: Because it would only be fair for it to know.
Curtis: Alright then, I shall. Squirrel, I have yet to decide whether or not to drop this muffin in front of you. In fact, I think it rather possible that I will have eaten the muffin by nightfall before you see so much as a crumb.
The squirrel, downcast, sulked behind a tree.
Curtis: There you have it, Moosey, I have told the squirrel. And where does that put me? I can't eat this muffin now... there is too painful a memory attached to it. And I can't toss it to the squirrel - it would be a violation of my word, and it would defeat the entire purpose of the whole thing.
Moose: Pardon my saying so, but who goes to the park with a purpose?
Curtis: Oh, lots of people go to the park with a purpose. Most people, in fact. Usually a reason based in religion, I suppose... charity to all of God's creation in the form of tossing bits of baked goods to the local small animals so they grow portly and dependent and lose their natural skill for foraging.
Moose: I am inclined to believe, though, that most people haven't a clue why they go to the park, and go in search of an answer.
Curtis: And are you such a person?
Moose: Yes, I am.
Curtis: And what have you found?
Moose: I have found that the feeding of these animals is a steady deterioration of will on their part. It began with one adventurous pidgeon approaching me fearless - for no matter how I tried, I could not chase one down - and myself remaining perfectly still as I brought it pastries. But seeing this reduced the fear of the other pidgeons: here was this one pidgeon, no different from the rest, eating nearly from my fingertips, and no harm came to it. And so now I can be strolling aimlessly with a cinnamon bun in hand and a pidgeon much like the one here will land on my shoulder.
Pidgeon: Excuse me, but you seem to have the situation rather backwards.
Moose: I beg your pardon?
Pideon: Yes, quite. We never feared you - one could tell from your first entrance to the park that you wouldn't so much as harm a beetle on the pathway. But you once cared far too much. One hardly likes to take what is eagerly given.
Moose: What's this! Hardly so.
Curtis: On the contrary, Moose - would not your parents be more than obliging to keep you at home and send you to college at their expense? And yet you look to flee their grasp to Montreal.
Pidgeon: Exactly. So when it became more of a challenge, a situation where we felt we could take without appearing needy, that's when we came. Few like to be seen accepting help - many tolerate it, but precious few enjoy it. It's a sign of weakness, and this is nature. Nature thrives on vanquishing weakness.
The squirrel had returned to Curtis' feet, staring up at him.
Curtis: This muffin is all I have to offer...
Pidgeon: All he has to offer! How quickly civilization turns one's priorities on end! Food, water, shelter, that's what it comes down to. That squirrel knows it as well as any other animal in this park. Mark my words, you humans are going to destroy yourselves someday. You're trying to hard not to be like us, and that shall be the death of you.