According to my television pigeons do not have a stupendous sense of direction granted them by some weird sixth sense. Instead they follow the roads. They do not in fact sense the earth's magnetic field but have a copy of the AA road atlas. The overactive imagination kicked in almost immediately:
"Coo coo....Ere, 'scuse me mate. *flap flap* Do you know how I get to Walton-on-the-Nase from 'ere do you. Only I've just got off the M11, traffic was shocking, droppin' out of the sky they were, and I'm a bit lost."
"Coo, er yeah. Always gets like that at this time of day. Walton-on-Nase? You're almost on top of it. Coo coo. Carry on down here for about a mile, left at the roundabout past the Red Lion on your left. *flap flap* Good bit of lunch there, picnic tables outside, messy eaters, crumbs everywhere if you know what I mean, barmaid's a bit soft-headed might be good for a free lunch, nudge wink etc. Coo, coo *flap flap* Two miles after that take right at the reservoir and just follow your beak. Can't miss it."
"Cheers mate. Coo coo. I've made it all this way from Doncaster *flap flap* but its always the last few miles that get you innit?"
"You've got that right. Cooo coo. By the way there's a bastard of a ginger cat that creeps up on you at the birdtables in Walton, watch your step. Good luck." *flap flap flap....glide* Thinks: didn't warn him about the fifteen year old with the airgun, oops.