Pigeon Ambits
Nathan couldn’t find a spot to drill. There were a few cracks that might gain purchase but his drill only had a single bit, and the bit wasn’t for concrete. A pigeon landed nearby.
A small boy trotted to the other side of the fountain. Nathan saw him, ran around, and chased the boy away before he could toss in his penny. The pigeon didn’t fly away.
Nathan had a chisel on his tool belt, and hammer. Those seemed like his best bets. He tamped the chisel’s sharp corner into the fountain’s low retaining wall. He still couldn’t get a hole started. Pieces fell off like old skin. Nathan refused to tape the sign to the fountain. That would look ridiculous. It needed to be hung proper.
A couple in peacoats approached. It was a lovely fall day. Nathan ran a quarter of the way around the fountain to shoo them off. The pigeon watched.
He used that momentum to keep circling the fountain. He looked for a soft place to drill again. A woman and her son approached from the other side. Nathan felt forces boring into his knees and ankles — but stopped, suddenly, when two policemen approached. The mother let her son throw four pennies in the fountain which Nathan found excessive. He didn’t move. Another couple arrived, slightly older. Nathan was breathing sharply. He walked toward the older couple figuring they’d leave if he approached and he was right. The policemen were talking. They walked so close to the fountain their boots moistened. They answered their radio. Then they left. Nathan waited until they were to the street and moved toward the mother figuring she’d leave when he approached and he was right. Everyone was gone.
Nathan leaned the sign against the base of the fountain. He weighted it with chisel fragments. It would do. It said Nathan’s. And he left.
