We have an air conditioner perched out of our hi-rise apartment that the pigeons have taken to like a nest in the Himalayas. At first I thought they were roosting to have some babies -- which I sort of warmed to believing the rabbit could have a min-wild kingdom from the confines of our living room, and also because as the myth goes in New York: We always see adult pigeons, but no one ever sees the babies.
But instead of laying eggs, the pigeons have left, well, you guessed it.
So instead of watching the pigeons with fascination, I've taken to throwing pencils, small books, or just about anything on my desk that I think won't break the window to chuck when I hear their foul wings rubbing against the glass. And the rabbit has now followed suit. She prefers to toss crayons and her small collection of rubber balls screaming, "Go away you DIS-gustin pigeons!"
I promise. We'll keep her away from the nature preserves.