More pigeon musings

 Following my last post about the uncharacteristically sedate mystery bird of our recent Northern getaway, I have found myself thinking more about pigeons. Pigeons are often described as 'sky rats,' a description I enjoy thoroughly because it contains a double insult. Not only are they disease harbingers (like rats), but there's also no evidence whatsoever that they are anywhere near the intelligence of rats, an animal widely acknowledged to be pretty intelligent. 

People intend to insult pigeons by calling them sky rats, but frankly, they should be so lucky to be associated with rats. This is farcical, and is why I find myself inadvertently enjoying pigeons. Pigeons are a farcical bird. 

I have learnt in the course of trying to locate a clip of their mating antics, that they are apparently known as 'rock doves' to some. Or, this is what PROFESSIONAL PEST MANAGER would have me believe (see here). I think we can all agree that the idea that rocks need frequenting by any kind of dove is incredibly stupid, so yet again, we can chalk another point in the 'pigeons are ridiculous' column. Rock doves indeed.

Take their mating displays, for example. If you look up 'pigeon mating display' online, you will find brave efforts from the likes of birdful.org and avicultureblog.com that try to render this topic with nuance. Whereas, I present you this:

 There is absolutely NO subtlety here. Heterosexual human men panic about the revelation of their interest in others through visible erections and acting as though they've taken leave of their senses around someone they find attractive (admittedly, this may be less of an issue in adult gay men). Not so for the male pigeon! Fat-headed with desire, he struts desperately around before the object of his interest (of which there will be MANY, based on what I've seen), usually being soundly ignored. It's really quite mesmerising, and makes me think of people who start undertaking religious busking out of nowhere in the street, except more enjoyable. I'll take a horny fathead pigeon bloke over one that wants to sing to me about Jesus anytime.

Speaking of men singing and pigeons, that has reminded me of this song that had the audacity to emerge trying to bite on a vastly more successful song. If I wasn't already a misandrist, this would get me to the finish line. Good God, the men want to insult TLC by 'covering' their song, but they can't even manage to sing. Perhaps start there, gentlemen? Men thinking they can yell their way over something that was SUNG, it's really like a pigeon trying to call itself a 'rock dove'...

I had the... privilege? I'll go with that word. PRIVILEGE, of witnessing another pigeon mating ritual recently. Usually, I only am able to see the desperate, fat-headed males scurrying at females that seem to be blind to their very reality up until the point they suddenly away to escape the pompous puffing and strutting. This time, I got a rearview of the bowing ritual:

 Now, I didn't know that this was a mating ritual at the time. I simply saw the backside of the pidge, with white feathers peeking out amidst the grey fan of his tail. That fan tilted up - down - up. I was arrested for several seconds. 'What on EARTH is he trying to do?' I asked myself. Note the 'he' - on some level, I already knew. He engaged in 2 rounds of bowing and I found myself wondering if this was where the inspiration for those drinking bird toys comes from (I'm sure many birds besides pigeons do that). As he attempted to go in for the clinching of his suit, however, the female got out of there immediately. Smart woman.

I do enjoy pidges cooing. I don't know if I detect a difference in a mating pidge's coo, there probably is one, but I am neither aware nor interested. I will continue to enjoy the absurdity of pidges, such as when we return home from somewhere and there is one - always just ONE! - perched on the very topmost point of the roof. Then, as if to make a point, I will see one on another, lower part of the roof. A rare moment of grandeur for them, which in its unexpectedness, makes them more enjoyable still. Right up until we hear one cooing in the morning all the way throughout the house as if it wishes to prove how much it can project its voice and BOOM! Back to ridiculous. Thank you pidges, for the music.