This one is the problem, said the man feeding the pigeons

One Sunday you sat on a bench on the Rambla giving each pigeon a different piece of bread and speaking to each one in a low voice, with some warmth and some disapproval. I was passing with an ice cream. You looked up and said, this one is the problem, and pointed at a very large pigeon. I said I could tell. You nodded. The pigeon knew. I walked on and ate my ice cream a little faster, in case.