Wild Wildlife: The Love That Dares Not Speak Its Name

I don’t care who knows it: I adore pigeons—their beautiful slate-and-cool-grey plumage, their striking orange eyes, their iridescent neck feathers that glimmer like geodes with purple and green. I’ve endured enough taunts about my fondness from people who argue that pigeons are filthy, stupid, and enormous pests, and yet I still don’t understand why more people don’t appreciate them, especially since the arguments against pigeons are so unreasonable.
Filthy? Pigeons are no dirtier than any other bird species; they may be in a better position than some species to transfer mites to humans, but it’s a rare bird in the wild that’s not a vector for something. And, again, the argument is specious, since we all ooh and aah over adorable deer—even though we know they’re seething with tics that carry Lyme disease.


Stupid? Compared to what? Maybe they’re not problem-solving geniuses like ravens and crows, but pigeons can recognize and distinguish between the work of various impressionist painters, which is more than most people can do. And since when has the subject’s intelligence influenced our enjoyment of animal life (do you think peacocks or gazelles are especially brainy?)—or, for that matter, our response to politicians?


As for being pests—we revile pigeons because they’re able to adapt to an urban world we’ve created and live in—we’ve set up a double standard in which any animal that can live in our cities is automatically reviled, even though we live there. And yet for some reason we still find squirrels cute in spite of their penchant for living in attics or garages and eating bulbs, flowers, and garden crops.



So for those of you who are already admirers of pigeons, well done! And for those who have spoken badly of them, I urge you to reconsider. Once you get past your original prejudice, they’re a lot of fun to watch.

{A note: I do write all text and take all pictures. Please do not reproduce either without my permission.}