Pastor Bob

Pastor Bob has returned to the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa.  His revival tent sits in the meadow and he is eager to bring that old time religion to the good folks hereabouts.  Pastor Bob even extended a joyous welcome to the Face of Everyman; known by all to be a Cynic.  The venerable sage just might make one of the healing crusades if his knee didn’t get any better.


They were certain that they were walking into an ambush but the lure of cracked corn and millet seed was overpowering.  Fresh tracks in the mud of big cats made them wary.  The fact that the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa was a UNESCO avian sanctuary never crossed the minds of Tula’, Panther or Boots.  All were neighborhood scofflaws and may have done hard timethe Face of Everyman was conducting business on mind-skype and was powerless to aid the naive pigeons if a rumble went down.


As luck would have it; a plus sized couple won big on a popular game show: a weeks stay at the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa.  the Face of Everyman braced himself for a weeks worth of indignities.


The Breakfast Kit posted a few flyers around the statuary and memorials of the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa; hopefully to encourage lonely pigeons to try out for membership in their group.  Flyers were effusive; bountiful food and plenty of cover from raptors, friendly rodents.  Two new pigeons, seen above, are trying out for a newly created vacancy.  the Face of Everyman remained mute as he is often wont to do.

Mortality Census

Periodically the Face of Everyman took a census count of bands of Simple Pigeons.  Shown above is The Breakfast Kit.  “E” duly recorded the loss of one of its member since the last tally and phoned in the official report from the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa Bird Banding and Census Station.  Noting the cause: Death by Cooper’s Hawk.

Stand Off

Tula’ the Cat came down from the warmth of the manor house situated high above the Foggy Bottoms Resort and Spa to see for herself the gluttony of the Simple Pigeons who lived off the largess provided for songbirds by the kindly ol’ pensioner.  The pigeon was either starved or had no experience with cats.  It became sort of a stand off.  Tula’ would charge the bird who would flutter off a few feet; then feed at a new spot with a certain nonchalance.  Both soon tired of the game. The satiated pigeon flew off to forage elsewhere.  the Face of Everyman slept thru the entire encounter.  Tula returned home and found a Sun spot for a nice nap.