Pidgeon

I was at Kenwood House with my mother, eating an extremely expensive lunch of sausages and mash, when suddenly I noticed to my left a large woodpigeon wandering on over, working its waddly way through a forest of table legs and chairs. It cocked its head at me and its eyes blinked. At once it flapped up to the table next to ours, and began to cautiously make its way towards a plate with the remains of someone else's mashed potato and gravy. I saw the lust in its eyes as it lowered its little beaked face towards the leftovers. Then it pecked vicously at the mash, and a little piece of cold potato skin whizzed off the plate, past the left side of my head like shrapnel, making me flinch. I looked around at my mother and opened my mouth to say something, but shut it anyway. Then i looked at all the other six or seven pidgeons around the area, under tables, searching, hunting for leftovers. Suddenly and in a chaotic hustle of flapping noise they all lifted off at once, scattering leaves under their wake, and they flew out of sight. There was a hanging and dulled silence as i sat there confused. I turned around once more where the pidgeon had been. But hanging over me and blotting out what little light there was on such a grey day, was a pidgeon the size of a house,  Its giant grey feathers fluffed silently in the breeze. It cocked its head at me. I heard its eyelids slide across the slick glassy surface of its bright orange eyes as it blinked at me.