This Old Guy Feeding Pigeons
So, there’s this guy; let’s call him Kevin because that’s his name.
He’s just an ordinary bloke, the sort who buys store-brand cereal because it’s cheaper, and he reckons it tastes the same when you pour enough sugar on it.
Kevin works in an office, one of those places with gray carpets that look like they’re made from recycled mouse mats. One day, Kevin’s boss, who’s the type to wear a tie even on casual Fridays, tells him he’s got to go on a business trip. Not somewhere exciting like New York or Paris, but to some small town nobody’s ever heard of. The sort of place where excitement means the local shops got a new type of biscuit. Kevin’s not thrilled about it, but he packs his bag—which is just an old gym bag that still smells a bit like trainers—and off he goes.
The train to this place is one of those slow ones, where you can watch cows and fields and more cows and have time to wonder about what cows think about all day.
He gets to the hotel, and it’s one of those ‘boutique’ ones, which just means it’s small and the owner’s tried too hard to make it ‘quirky’. There’s a typewriter in the lobby for decoration, which Kevin thinks is a bit pointless. It’s like putting a horse in a car park and calling it transport.
The next day, he’s got his meeting, but he’s got some time to kill in the morning. So, he decides to take a walk around the town. It’s one of those places with a high street full of shops that sell things nobody really needs, like fancy soaps that smell like stuff you shouldn’t want to rub on your body.
As he’s walking, he sees this old guy sitting on a bench, feeding pigeons. The pigeons are going mad for it, like they’ve never seen bread before. Kevin thinks, “That’s a bit of a life, isn’t it? Sitting there, feeding birds that don’t care about you. They just want your bread.” But then he sits next to the old man, just out of curiosity more than anything. The old man looks at him and says, “Do you know why I feed these pigeons?” Kevin shakes his head, and the old man continues, “Because every day they come back. They remember. It’s nice to be remembered.” Kevin thinks about this for a moment. He’s never really thought about pigeons having good memories. He’s not even sure he’s got a good memory himself. He forgets birthdays, anniversaries, and where he puts his keys most days. The old man gets up to leave, and as he walks away, he says, “Maybe try feeding some pigeons yourself. You might be surprised.”
Kevin’s left there, sitting on the bench, with a group of expectant pigeons looking up at him. He’s got no bread, so he just shrugs at them. They seem a bit disappointed, like they were expecting a bit more from him. That’s when Kevin starts thinking. What if life’s a bit like feeding pigeons? You do something small, like throw a bit of bread, and it’s not a big deal to you, but to someone else, it’s everything. Maybe it’s not about doing big things, but just doing little things that matter to someone, even if it’s just a pigeon.
He goes back to the hotel, and that typewriter in the lobby catches his eye again. He sits down and types out a note: “Remember to feed the pigeons.” He leaves it there, next to the typewriter. Maybe someone will see it and think it’s profound, or maybe they’ll just wonder why someone’s leaving notes about pigeons.
Kevin goes to his meeting, does all the handshaking and talking about sales targets or whatever. But in his head, he’s still thinking about those pigeons and the old man. He wonders if, tomorrow, he’ll buy a loaf of bread and find that bench again. It’s funny, isn’t it? You go to a place you’ve never been, expecting nothing but a boring meeting, and you end up thinking about pigeons and what they remember.
Life’s odd like that, full of little moments that make you think about the bigger stuff, like bread and birds and being remembered. And that’s Kevin, thinking about pigeons on a business trip, wondering if maybe, just maybe, life’s about more than just making it through the week until you can sit in your own living room and watch telly without thinking about birds.