The Other Day on the Train

A couple of days ago I went to Wimbledon as I do everytime on my weekends here. I walk out the door, turn left and left again, then walk straight till I hit St. Pancras Station. I take the westbound Hammersmith and City Line and get off at Edgeware Road. It's the most convenient transfer to the Central Line to Wimbledon, all you have to do is get off the train, walk three metres across the platform and get in the next train.

And a funny thing happened to me when I was waiting for the Central Line train to close its doors and leave. Edgeware Road is the last stop. From there it goes back the other way, so sometimes the doors are open for a while. I was alone, comfortably sitting on the far left seat of a four-seat set between two doors, when suddenly two pigeons came flying in, one through each door, simultaneously, like they were about to take over the train. 

Now, I don't mind animals, but pigeons I'm really not too fond of. Normally I would hush them away, especially being outnumbered and situated in a limited space like that. But not this time. L'Orange was playing his Billie Holiday samples, the wind was crisp and gently replacing the used air in the compartment, and for just a moment things were really really good. Too good, in fact, to get up and disturb anyone's peace.

But, it made me think. Are the pigeons at Edgeware Road so sophisticated that they know the time tables for all the trains, know that people eat stuff during their journeys and leave crumbles when they all get out at the terminal station? Or were the two pigeons on the train simply travellers? Just because they can fly doesn't mean they have to fly everywhere they go, does it? Sometimes they might want to walk, or take the train.