Tuesday, September 04, 2012
I don’t usually associate with criminals unless I’m writing about them. I’m breaking with my policy this time. I’m not only associating with an admitted criminal — I’ve become a co-conspirator.
Her crime is feeding pigeons. The crime scenes vary. She makes it a point to juggle the illegal feeding times so that authorities cannot easily stake out the crime scenes. I won’t use her first name. Just let me say that her last name is not Dickinson or Post. And Simon and Garfunkel were not singing about her when they performed “For ______, Wherever I may Find Her.
She called me today because of a chance encounter at one of her crimes scenes when, in fact, she was committing the crime.
I notice these things, so I very carefully worked my way into her confidence. She’s a remarkably normal-looking immigrant from an unnamed country that was once part of a larger group of countries that was once our main enemy during the Cold War. She’s from a country that once had a nasty nuclear generator accident. But I’m not going to disclose anymore.
Here’s the thing: she’s looking for an accomplice who’s not afraid to risk life and liberty to ensure that her pigeons get their daily meals.
“They are there at the same time every day,” she told me. “They are waiting for me, but because I don’t have a car right now, I can’t always get there.”
She offered this bit of conspiracy: “I’d be happy to pay someone to come and feed my friends. I’ll buy the food and I’ll stash it behind nearby trees.”