Actually, staring at them suspiciously is a good way to control them.  At least, that’s what I was telling a co-worker, as we sat on a park bench eating our lunch.

“I got the idea for this from Scientific American,” I said.   “Or was it Popular Science?  Maybe Popular Mechanics.  Anyway, I read somewhere that all animals recognize a staring eye as a sign of aggression.  That’s why certain moths and butterflies can use eye spots on their wings as a form of defense.”

My co-worker looked slowly over at me.  “Say what?” he said.

“Okay,” I said.  “Just watch.”

His hand-waving had been having no appreciable effect on the whereabouts of the current pigeon population.  They seemed to believe they were playing some sort of variation of jump-rope.

I leaned down toward them slowly and menacingly.  My jaw got set and hard; one eye closed down mean and squinty;  the other opened up huge.  I...just...STARED.

And it was the most amazing thing, how those pigeons reacted.

One gave me the hardest, dirtiest look I’ve ever seen on a pigeon.  But he quickly realized that his whammy was no match for mine, and he hot-footed it out of there, slightly puffy and trying to look as if he’d just remembered an important appointment.  The rest placed no such store on saving face.  Once our eyes locked, you could see the realization dawn on them—Uh-oh, bad hombre—and they were on their way.

“See that?” I said, beaming with satisfaction.

“See that?” said my co-worker, beaming in a different way.  He pointed to a deposit that had been left on my trousers.  (I had obviously neglected my aerial defenses.)