A few weeks late, but here’s an account of my afternoon with Mike Tyson. He likes pigeons:
Suddenly, Tyson looked up, focussing on something in the distance. A flock of pigeons from a neighboring coop was flying in circles. “Man, that hawk is hitting this guy’s bird!” Tyson sprang out of his chair and hobbled across the roof—boxing was not good to his body—bobbing between satellite dishes and piles of two-by-fours.
More on Tyson and his pigeons available.