It was late afternoon and I was walking through Cadman Plaza Park, a small green spot near the steep stairway that leads to the Brooklyn Bridge. As I made my way across the lawn, my attention was drawn to a little girl who was shouting. It sounded as though she was yelling, “Egg! Egg! Egg!”
I walked closer and saw that the girl was pointing to a pigeon waddling in the shadows, between the fallen leaves, and yes, she was calling out about an egg. Just above the surface of the ground, a half-laid egg protruded from the bird’s belly.
I watched, waiting for the wobbly creature to sit down and complete the act of laying her egg. I hoped to see her perched securely above her sticky little white egg. But she took one rocking step after another without pause. Suddenly, there was a flurry of feathers as the pigeon — the egg still stuck between her legs — lifted her wings, flapped across the street, and disappeared into a small grove of trees on Cadman Plaza.