Matt held the bag out until Clarice had taken some, and then he retracted it slowly. Shrugging, Matt glanced back at the birds. "You know pigeons are related to doves. It's uncanny how we use the white version of the same bird as a symbol of hope and peace and yet this version is labeled as fat, and stupid."
He leaned back some against the bench, and offered Clarice his attention again. "Things here are much more than they seem to be, Clarice. I don't necessarily have to watch the birds to get the pleasure of their company. Their coo's are more than enough."
The blips of satisfied sounds showed him more than he needed to see. "I remember what pigeons look like. It helps. In New York pigeons were everywhere. They may have well been the state bird."