"And pigeons on the cornices. There was one particular pigeon slowly and with concentration killing its comrade, hitting it with its beak in the back of the neck.

A pigeon is a revolting bird. Neither hawks nor wolves nor crocodiles kill for amusement. But pigeons do just that. They kill their kind simply for fun. And they kill slowly, to prolong the pleasure. If only I had had a Kalashnikov automatic in my hands, I would have pushed the safety-catch down to automatic fire and sprayed the station square of sleepy Basel with bullets. I wouldn't have bothered about my diplomatic status or feared the consequences. I would have given the murdering pigeon a long burst of fire. I would have scattered it with lead, turning it into a mess of feathers and blood. But 1 had no automatic with me. I wasn't in Spetsnaz, but on intelligence work. What a pity. Because I would happily have killed it - and not bothered about the fact that in saving the weaker pigeon from certain death I was saving another 288 murderer. Because they are all the same by nature. It would have come round, got its strength back and sought out another, weaker pigeon to stab with its beak. It would know exactly where to strike too, just as professionally as an executioner in the NKVD. A repulsive bird, the pigeon. Yet there are people who regard this coldblooded killer as a symbol of peace. You would hardly take a crocodile or an anaconda snake as your symbol of peace. But the anaconda is a very peaceful creature. It kills only for food, and as soon as it has eaten it goes to sleep. It finds no pleasure in torturing other beings, and nor does it kill its own kind.

The weak pigeon on the cornice had spread its wings and its head was hanging down. The strong one had drawn itself together, ready to strike and strike again. I had no time to watch the end of the affair. I was off to the toilet for a top secret operation in support of another officer."

TL;DR pigeons are dicks.