The Pigeon 



Symbol of the Holy Spirit or Scourge of City Life, 

 Certainly the Most Controversial Member of the Bird Kingdom 



by Jerry Sullivan 



I should say right at the start that I like pigeons. Mine is 

 not a common attitude these days. Pigeons are routinely 

 castigated as filthy, disease-ridden pests. Pigeon control 

 is a substantial business. Pigeon consultants advise the 

 government on how to minimize the pigeon presence at 

 major outdoor events, like presidential inaugurations. 

 City ordinances make outlaws of old ladies scattering 

 stale bread in the park. One Chicago suburb recently 

 outlawed all backyard bird feeders on the dubious 

 grounds that they were supporting the local pigeon 

 population. 



Another suburb, apparently acting under the influ- 

 ence of too many Wild Kingdom reruns, tried transporta- 

 tion as a means of ridding its downtown pigeons. The 

 birds were trapped and driven to a nearby forest pre- 

 serve, where they were released. This control program is 

 a particular favorite of mine. You trap a bird whose hom- 

 ing abilities have been known since ancient times, a bird 

 capable of flying as fast as 90 miles an hour, and you 

 transport it from its natural home on the pavement to a 

 forest preserve where it will find nothing of interest ex- 

 cept the trash cans in the picnic groves. The odds are 

 that the pigeons, who don't have to deal with traffic 

 lights and speed limits, will arrive back in town long 

 before the trapper. The whole plan sounds like a scheme 

 to pad the city payroll. Certainly the municipal pigeon 

 trapper is never going to run out of birds to catch. 



The reason for all this aggression against these 

 peaceable birds can be summed up in a single word: 

 Droppings. Yes, they carry diseases, but I doubt if they 

 would attract all this outrage if they were a bit less obtru- 

 sive. People are offended by dung-splattered sidewalks 

 and chalky walls, not to mention the occasional well- 



Jerry Sullivan edited Chicago Area Birds, published recently by 

 Chicago Review Press; writes a column, "Field and Street," for 

 the Chicago Reader; and has written extensively on birds of the 

 Chicago area. 



aimed dropping that drops right into your hair. The com- 

 mon opinion is that pigeons are unusually filthy, but the 

 fact is that the dung situation would be just as bad if 

 downtown Chicago was supporting a few hundred thou- 

 sand birds of paradise or quetzals. Animals in large num- 

 bers produce large amounts of dung. My guess is that 

 really strong anti-pigeon feelings started to develop 

 about the time horses disappeared from the urban scene. 

 If the streets were still full of horse droppings, I doubt if 

 anybody would even notice the pigeons. 



But, as I said, I am hopelessly biased toward pi- 

 geons. I have several reasons for this opinion. The most 

 important of them stems from a consideration of what 

 would live downtown if we eliminated the pigeons. 

 Nothing. Pigeons have managed to adapt themselves to 

 some of the least inviting habitats we have created. They 

 don't need trees; they don't need grass; they don't even 

 need earth. They can live their whole lives on pave- 

 ment. If they didn't live in our most citified landscapes, 

 humans would be the only things moving. 



Pigeons also live their lives right in front of us. 

 Watch pigeons in the park or on the pavement, and you 

 can see enacted the rituals of love and rivalry that most 

 of us get to see only on public television. A cock starts 

 his display with a leaping flight toward the hen. He claps 

 his wings together on the downstroke. He lands in front 

 of her and approaches with his neck inflated and ex- 

 panded, the feathers of his neck, belly, lower back, and 

 rump held erect. When he reaches the hen, he stands 

 with his head held high, his beak pointing downward. 

 He then turns in a tight circle while bowing low. 



To get the full effect of this display, you have to 

 imagine it from the hen's point of view. What she sees is a 

 black beak crowned by a white cere and a pair of orange 

 eyes. The pupils actually contract during the display, 

 making the irises as large and bright as possible. Sur- 

 rounding this image is a wreath of iridescent green, 

 bronze, and purple, the cock's erected neck feathers. 5 



