The last pigeon conference I crashed was in San Sebastian Park, Cuenca, Ecuador.

Walking through these San Juan Del Sur, Nicaragua pigeons, a few take flight as I move into their ranks, but most continue eating scraps thrown out by the restaurant’s kitchen help, undeterred by my appearance in their sidewalk dining room.

Food is one of those common denominators math teachers draw on their board before a class of hungry teenagers just before the lunch bell. Food, I’m always reminded by nature, keeps us living souls living.

These pigeon’s need to eat is greater than their distrust of humans, and, especially, tourists.

After i pass through them, they close ranks and finish lunch.

It is as if I was never here.

 

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