There are eleven pigeons. I looked at this image (it shows up on my computer desktop frequently) for about a year before I saw the eleventh pigeon. Maybe because I was busy looking at the marvelous instead of the mundane. But the other day my 9-year old told me, “I wish people could fly.” He meant like a bird, not in a machine. Like a pigeon. Not like a million pound jet airplane. Because it seemed more marvelous to him. And I love double checks like that because then I have to go back and decide what is mundane and what isn’t. Nothing in this photo is mundane, as far as I’m concerned. Neither is the million pound jet that takes me there.
How many pigeons?
How long did it take you?
Did your eyes deceive you?
(Don’t count the tiny chunk of a tail on the far left)
Did you count ten?