I am evil. I am the sniper of the pigeon world. I am a hit man. One minute you're cooing away enjoying a bit of seed, and the next you feel a pellet rip through your wing. You try to fly, but you can't. I walk up to you and put the cold steel barrel of a gun to the back of your head. And then it's over. No, I don't take pleasure in killing, but if the f***ing rats with wings wouldn't be so aggressive toward the native scaled quail, I might feel differently. I have been doing battle with pigeons for about a year now. My neighbor used to throw out massive amounts of food ON THE GROUND which eventually attracted them. They then discovered my feeder and took over. I stopped feeding for awhile, but I felt bad for all of the juncos, thrashers, scrubjays, and finches, so I started again. The pigeons returned. I could have used "scare tactics", but they would have scared away the other birds as well. So I resorted to shooting them. The first shot usually just wounds them. I then quickly finish them off with a coup de grace. Why am I writing this? Well, I discard of the dead bird by putting it about 30' in back of my fence. The next day it is gone, presumably eaten by coyotes. I take comfort in the fact that I'm helping out the 'yotes. Well, right now I am watching a truly wonderful site. A hawk is tearing the carcass to shreds. I can't quite identify it, but I took a few pix. I am a big fan of raptors. It makes the killing a little easier knowing that another native species can benefit.