In what city officials are calling a groundbreaking achievement in urban planning, Riga announced its ambitious new tourism campaign dedicated to eradicating pigeons from its picturesque streets. Titled 'Feather-Free Riga: The New Flight Path to Urbia,' the initiative aims to position the Latvian capital as the premier destination for travelers who find joy in bird-free environments - a demographic city planners remarkably estimate to account for over 0.03% of global tourism.

'When we said we wanted to boost tourism, we thought about what no other city has: freedom from feathered nuisances,' explained Osvalds Kalniņš, Director of Riga's Department of Innovative Urban Ideas. 'Imagine visiting our beautiful cafes without the threat of aviary excrement. It's an ornithophobe's dream!'

Leading the pigeon purging effort is the newly hired 'Chief Pigeon Exclusion Officer,' commonly referred to by locals as 'Birdless Bertie.' Clad in a feather-resistant suit and carrying a whistle tuned to a frequency only pigeons can hear, Bertie holds weekly public demonstrations showcasing the technique responsible for the city's avian exodus. 'It's very technical,' Bertie shared, 'like a cross between a dance and a séance, while involving copious amounts of breadcrumbs and interpretative flailing.'

The city council has published a commemorative guidebook titled "Pigeons: The Early Departure," featuring blank pages symbolizing a world without the birds. They claim it enhances creativity and interpretive thinking. 'It's not about the absence,' chuffed Mare Kažok-Pērle, the newly appointed Minister of Imagination, 'it's about appreciating what was never really there now gone.'

However, not all locals share the enthusiasm. Street artist Baldrejs Vīksna, not to be confused with a renegade pigeon sympathizer, erected a sculpture of a giant pigeon made entirely out of repurposed city ordinance pamphlets. 'It's ironic, you see,' Vīksna stated enigmatically while shooing away a confused sparrow. 'How do you know they left if you never saw them go? My art asks those hard questions.'

Tourism specialists predict the campaign could boost Riga's foreign visitors by as much as two dozen people annually, with most coming from Estonia, where the pigeon problem remains suspiciously mundane. 'It's remarkable,' commented Johanna Pettere, an Estonian urbanologist keen on pigeon-related tourism. 'Riga is pioneering bird-free tourism - it’s like wine tasting, but for cities that taste like cobblestones not coated in droppings.'

In conclusion, the initiative is hailed as a tremendous symbolic gesture, even if practical evidence remains as elusive as the birds themselves. Meanwhile, the Latvian Ornithological Society has reportedly taken an interest, expressing both confusion and concern over the abrupt vanishing, stating cryptically, 'There’s something afoot, or a-wing, we suppose.'

All eyes remain on Riga, eager to see if the city can cornerstone this achievement into something more profound. As one bemused passerby on Krastmala Street put it, 'Riga's pigeon plan may be the quirkiest yet - an ecological illusion of the best kind, creating an expanse of thought devoid of distraction... or pigeons.'