So the pigeons I was thinking of poisoning that live on the 2x7 space called a balcony that have woke me up most mornings for the past couple of months have decided to start a family. The other day I heard something familiar, a tiny screeching (chirping? No. Screeching) that reminded me of the chicks that hatched at our farm when I was somewhere around the age of seven. I dropped a chick and everyone yelled at me and I cried. Stupid starting a family to evoke pity. They can have the damn balcony, then.