The word got around quick. The\u00a0150 strong blackbird main flight that hung around the power lines near\u00a0the Bed, Bath & Beyond\u00a0on Connecticut Avenue took wing and began their characteristic swirl. They flew up, first to the left, a swoop to the right,\u00a0back to the left, a circle up, a dramatic drop and then they settled\u00a0back on the wires… huddled together. Waiting for more news. <\/p>\n
The crows were not to be seen. That was to be expected. The pigeons hated the crows. And when the most important pigeon in our District, The Queeg, met his untimely and tragic end, you knew that the crows would lay low. Not that the crows were responsible. But why make trouble.<\/p>\n
I go by the name of Sweet Grey. The Queeg and I go back to his New York days. You could say he took me under his wing at a time when I could have cruised into hanging with the wrong crowd around Yankee Stadium. When I met him, he had just been made Queeg of Battery Park and Liberty Island. He had been a smashing success in Central Park; but he yearned for the sea air,\u00a0and the Reservoir was not enough. When he asked for the transfer, who would say no? That’s the reputation he had. To give up Central Park… that said something.<\/p>\n
The first time I accompanied him on the flight from\u00a0the Battery to Liberty Island he told me, \u201cdrop your load over the water… we’ll do a fly around Lady Liberty, take a breather on the torch and I want no crapping on Lady Liberty! Got it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGot it!\u201d<\/p>\n
That’s the way it was with the Queeg. He conveyed strength and purpose, like Wyatt Earp coming in to clean up Tombstone or something. The buzz got ’round real fast… this Queeg wouldn’t put up with anyone crapping on The Lady<\/em> (as he referred to her). And that’s the way it was. The Lady was off limits, and woe to the delinquent pigeon the who made a mistake. I questioned the Queeg on this, \u201cHey!\u00a0Sometimes a\u00a0fellah’s gotta go!\u201d<\/p>\n He just stared at me. Refolded his wings. Twisted his neck a bit. Did a bit of preening. \u201cNo mistakes!\u00a0Cross your legs if you have to!! No mistakes while I’m The Queeg!\u201d<\/p>\n And that’s the way it was.<\/p>\n To you it may seem small. But it all pulled together. Pride, pride. There was this older woman who would come by bench 97A at the Battery. Each day she would bring a bag with pieces of bread. A veritable feast. White bread, some rye and sometimes even challah! She always wore a shawl and a straw hat with a paper flower. She would whistle as she tore off pieces of the bread for us to dine on. \u201cChick, chick, chick here my friends…\u201d<\/p>\n And there was the Queeg, \u201cRespect! No crapping near the ‘Hat Lady’!\u201d<\/p>\n I even saw the Queeg plop down in front of the “Hat Lady” once.\u00a0 He lands, see… takes a few steps to the left, a couple of head bobs, a tail flutter, look left, look right, a neck squnch, then a strut — a strut that only <\/em>The Queeg could do.\u00a0 And the Old Lady tosses a few pieces of whole wheat in his direction.\u00a0 Queeg?\u00a0 He continues his moves without a break.\u00a0 It was his way of saying, “I respect you ‘Hat Lady’.”\u00a0 Then he moved off a bit and signaled the rest of us that it was OK to move in and enjoy some supper.<\/p>\n Which we did.<\/p>\n Do you think that anyone would crap within 500 yards of that lady? Not a single pigeon. No one would think of crossing the Queeg!! Not even the seagulls!<\/p>\n Good work should be rewarded. And so it was when the powers that be<\/em> suggested\u00a0The Queeg take the post at the South Street Seaport. After all… it was still on the water. He declined. He said that he was looking to downsize<\/em>… And he jumped on the chance to take on Norwalk, its shore area and the adjacent neighborhoods.<\/p>\n He asked me to come along. And I was appointed Second.<\/em><\/p>\n Not\u00a0so bad, for a bird that almost went down the wrong path.<\/p>\n I didn’t like the crows in New York.\u00a0 I don’t like crows in Connecticut, either.\u00a0 Queeg?\u00a0 He was no crow lover; but he would say to me, “It’s a big sky.”\u00a0 I guess I had lots to learn.\u00a0 And when you were with The Queeg… you learned.<\/p>\n In the Southwest District we had no Statue of Liberty, no Empire State Building, no monument to man’s greatness… but we did have the Columbus Magnet School in South Norwalk.\u00a0 It was here that The Queeg focused his attention.\u00a0 It was here that he declared, “this is a sacred zone<\/em>… no dumping on the staff’s cars, no begging in the school yard and no sexy stuff while the kids are around.”\u00a0\u00a0 And so it was.<\/p>\n He would say, “good people and and good things have to be respected.”<\/p>\n Respect did not extend to people who drove luxury <\/em>cars.\u00a0 <\/em>One time we were on patrol over the Rowayton RR Station parking lot and Queeg spotted a spanking-new-off-the-showroom-floor BMW 745i parked between two “station schleppers.”<\/p>\n We were cruising at about 40 feet, and The Queeg winks at me and says, “Watch this, Sweet.”\u00a0 He circled back, increased altitude, brought his wings into diving position, dropped to 15 feet, leveled off and let loose a gooey crap dead center on the Beamer’s <\/em>hood.\u00a0 He peeled off from his strafing run and headed over to Vets Park.<\/p>\n When I caught up with him he was into preening his feathers.\u00a0 Obviously pleased with himself.\u00a0 “Go ahead Sweet… ask me what I’m most proud of.”<\/p>\n I looked around.\u00a0 Did a head bob or two, and a leg kick.\u00a0 “OK Queeg… what are you most proud of?”<\/p>\n “Accuracy!\u00a0 Accuracy my feathered friend!\u00a0 I’m at 15 feet, flying at mach 1<\/em>, and I drop that sloppy turd square on the shiny BMW’s hood.\u00a0 And not one drop touches the rusted out Honda to the left or the decrepit Chevy Sprint on the right!”\u00a0 He paused in his narrative, soaking in his sense of personal satisfaction and accomplishment.\u00a0 Puffed out his chest a bit.<\/p>\n “And the best part, Sweet Grey, my esteemed friend?\u00a0 That turd is going to be there all day long, roasting in the hot sun while Mr. BMW is in New York worrying about whether his position in high risk speculative stocks has left him exposed to financial ruin.”<\/p>\n He looked into the sun and blinked.\u00a0 “When he gets off the 7:07 from Grand Central, burned from his day’s toil… and when he returns to his precious pride and joy<\/em>, he will find my turd, now rock hard, welded to the hood of his car by the impartial sun.”<\/p>\n I winced.\u00a0 All of us knew, even the crows… if The Queeg dropped a dump on a car, the owner might as well trade it in… that turd ain’t coming off.<\/p>\n Dirtying a car?\u00a0 He called it “small potatoes;” but he would be quick to add, “small potatoes<\/em> can be mighty fine from time to time.”<\/p>\n Big <\/em>potatoes?\u00a0 Well, that was a different thing.\u00a0 And when I think of what The Queeg accomplished,\u00a0I’d have to say that when he organized the uneasy truce with the crows… well, that was pretty big<\/em> potatoes.<\/p>\n First, let me say that the pigeons weren’t the only ones who didn’t care for the crows.\u00a0 Ask the sparrows or the black birds.\u00a0 The crows\u00a0are big, they steal your food, and they have this irritating call.\u00a0 Although The Queeg would say the seagulls were the worst when it came to irritating calls.<\/p>\n In terms of territory the treaty entailed that the crows were given free rein in the wooded areas, they were denied access to elementary schools (The Queeg said they scared the little kids).\u00a0 They could only come to the beach zones for road kills<\/em> (The Queeg said let them fight it out with the seagulls).\u00a0 On our part we had to stay in the commercial zones and parks, and the\u00a0mourning doves were given the residential neighborhoods.<\/p>\n We were entitled to beg for food and work near people.\u00a0 The crows could eat anything dead.\u00a0 We were also permitted to do sexy dances in public; but the crows had to do their thing <\/em>out of sight (The Queeg said you don’t want to see what the crows do).<\/p>\n And so, a potential powder keg was diffused.\u00a0 We could thank The Queeg for that.<\/p>\n I was not there when The Queeg fell.\u00a0 He got whacked near Columbus School by a car.\u00a0 Or so I was told.\u00a0 He used to tell me that you can never be too careful.\u00a0 He got that right.\u00a0 Here one day, gone the next.\u00a0 When a pigeon died he would look to the sky and say “when it’s your time, it’s your time… <\/em>that’s just the way it is.\u00a0 And it makes no matter if you’re a pigeon or crow.\u00a0 Or anything else, for that matter.”<\/p>\n Sure there are other Queegs.\u00a0 But for me, there was THE <\/em>Queeg.\u00a0 And that pigeon can’t be replaced, I don’t care what others say.\u00a0 Still, I was asked to make the rounds to check on things.<\/em><\/p>\n I met with main blackbird flight and assured them that the peace would remain.\u00a0 They took off left, circled right, swirled into a steep climb, turned back, dropped and settled back on the wires they had just left… their positions re-shuffled.<\/em><\/p>\n That’s the blackbirds for you.<\/p>\n I glanced from their perch to the large Bed, Bath & Beyond sign to the marquee for the multi-plex Royal Theater.\u00a0 The sign was being changed.\u00a0 The current run films had been there for a couple of weeks… Smart People, Leatherheads, <\/em>Nims<\/em> <\/em>Island<\/em>, Under the Same Moon, Horton Hears a Who… <\/em>and a new film was being added… It’s a Big Sky.<\/em><\/p>\n It’s a Big Sky<\/em>?\u00a0 I wonder who stars in it?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The word got around quick. The\u00a0150 strong blackbird main flight that hung around the power lines near\u00a0the Bed, Bath & Beyond\u00a0on Connecticut Avenue took wing and began their characteristic swirl. They flew up, first to the left, a swoop to … Continue reading