Your prey is one of the dumbest birds on earth. As dumb as a rock, and therefore aptly named: Rock Dove. More commonly known as a pigeon. Sitting atop a building at the crest of the hill on 19th street, a particularly fat and naive one wobbles into view, mid-street. You see red, smell victory. Your lovely flight-ready feathers are nearly silent as you dive bomb and - SUCCESS! - clasp your unwittingly witless prey in your steely grip. You take a moment to savor the idiocy of the foul fattie beneath your claws -- and hear a noise. Human voices. Two of them emerge from the front gate of a house nearby and head towards you. "What is that?" you hear, and they continue to approach. You can't risk it -- as they stop in awe, you release your voluptuous victim and escape to the top of the nearest building. "That was a HAWK!" they screech, as the portly pigeon flees to the shadows of a nearby truck, unscathed and barely aware of its brush with death. HAWK?? Come on. You're small, your tail is small, your beak is small, your coloring smooth, and your tail is most certainly not red. They advance on the site of your attack, but alas, you had not even shed blood yet -- nothing but a handful of scattered feathers marks the spot. They look up at you, the female puts on her glasses, the male suggests red-tailed hawk, the female insists on later research, noting your small beak. As they walk away, you hear the male say, "in all my years of living here I've NEVER seen that before..." Your pudgey prey is at this point well-hidden, and escapes unpunished...for now...

(editor's note...to see the birds you actually probably were, go here for theory 1 and here for theory 2 (female).)