The Pigeon Lady
The Great Pigeon Crisis of ’76 was a time of turmoil in our town. For many years, Montrose has been plagued by a large flock of pigeons that makes its home in the town hall clock tower. There is no doubt, the birds have made a terrible mess over the years, but who could blame the pigeons? The tower provides adequate access, plenty of shelter for nesting, and the park below offers a regular smorgasbord. In short, the town hall clock tower is a natural pigeon coop. Cleaning up the mess these birds made on the building and sidewalk used up a large part of the municipal budget, but was just considered part of the cost of doing business in the town of Montrose.
Of course, the Town Fathers had always preferred that the pigeons make their home in someone else’s clock tower and had tried many times to dislodge them. The most spectacular attempt, and the one which seemed to present the most promise for success, involved installing a contraption in the tower that set off deafening explosions at irregular intervals. The sound it made was remarkably similar to discharging a 12-gauge shotgun in a broom closet. The first time it went off, the pigeons all took flight in great alarm and began circling around the tower. Just as everyone was shaking hands and congratulating each other, the birds landed again. For three days this happened every time the thing went off. By the fourth day, the pigeons didn’t even bother moving. Some of them didn’t even wake up. Of course, it bothered the citizens a great deal more than the birds. By the fifth day the streets were deserted. By the seventh day, when the downtown merchants were on bended knees, begging, the Council voted to remove the contraption.
All previous attempts to find a new home for the pigeons had ended with similar results and were, more or less, harmless, but the ’76 affair took on a far more sinister aspect. In the previous November election, the citizens of Montrose had elected one of the towns three Doctors to Council. At his first meeting, he reported that pigeon excretions contain a microorganism called Histoplasm Capsulatum. “Furthermore,” he reported. “This microorganism is responsible for a pulmonary tract disease in humans called histoplasmosis.” He went on to say that 25,000 people across the country are infected with the ailment every year. You can imagine what a flap this caused on Council. After debating the issue for three full meetings, even though no one could recall a case of histoplasmosis in the history of Montrose, they voted to authorize the shooting of the pigeons under the supervision of the Police Chief.
This decision very nearly brought the town of Montrose to the brink of civil war. Wives and husbands separated over the issue. Brothers turned against brothers, fathers and sons were at each other’s throats. These were terrible times in Montrose. In the middle of all this turmoil, a woman approached me on the street with a petition protesting the shootout at the old town hall. I was not in favour of shooting pigeons and I intended to sign her petition until she went on to describe a strange theory she had. It seems the leaders of her group had spent some time observing the pigeons in Trafalgar Square during World War II. They insisted that their research indicated that whenever structures such as Nelsons Monument are available to them, pigeons prefer them to public buildings. Because of this, they felt the answer to the town’s problem rested not in shooting pigeons, but in providing bigger and better monuments.
All I know about pigeons I have learned from those at the Montrose town hall and a pair that inhabit my barn at home. I told the lady that I didn’t want to see the pigeons shot, but I would have to see much more study done before I would support spending public money to build monuments for pigeons. As near as I can determine, the town hall pigeons are not nearly as discerning as their Trafalgar Square counterparts about where they deposit their excretions. They operate on the roof, the windowsills, front steps, the face of the clock, heads of strangers, in fact, just about any place they feel the need. Those at my home distribute their histoplasm capsulatum with the same reckless abandon as their urban relatives.
To be fair to the petition group, however, there is a sad lack of monuments in the town of Montrose. The pigeon lady, who was deeply involved in the field of pigeon psychology, stressed that this scarcity of monuments was a great hindrance in the accumulation of sufficient scientific data for a study of that nature. Because of this, she was doubtful that any meaningful conclusions would be forthcoming from research carried out in the Montrose vicinity. “Of Course,” she said. “You do have the Naked Mother And Child Statue in front of the library, and the Cenotaph, but being only 10 or 12 feet high, these can hardly be considered suitable for pigeon research.” Evidently, the constant strain imposed by the accuracy and timing demanded by these lower structures discourages the birds.
After my encounter with the pigeon lady, it occurred to me that perhaps my education was not as complete as I thought. With this in mind, I purchased a copy of Reinholt’s book, “Pigeons and Their Habits.” This work was undertaken for the Gugenheim Institute for Pigeon Research in 1483 and is the most comprehensive volume available on the subject. When I spoke to her several days later I asked her what she thought of Reinholt’s suggestion that due to the size of their brains, it was doubtful that pigeons possess sufficient intelligence to make the type of decisions she was claiming for them. She replied that while Reinholt’s book was the most recently published work on the subject, it was after all, an old book. Since it was published only eight years after the introduction of printing into England, she felt it could hardly be considered a reliable source of information. “Besides,” she said. “Recent studies have shown that while a pigeon’s brain is admittedly small, it is a full 0.75 percent of its body weight. The human brain in contrast only represents 0.62 percent of body weight.” I’m not sure how accurate her figures were, but it seems to me that due to the more uniform size of pigeons, figures of this type are more easily applied to them than to humans. Many human beings of truly impressive proportions are complete birdbrains. It’s unlikely that any of this does anything to establish the intelligence of pigeons, but in a way, it does seem to make sense.
In the interest of objectivity, I must admit that I have never witnesses a pigeon operating in the vicinity of a monument of any consequence. It’s highly possible that given more choice they might be choosier. I did observe an eagle decorating the beard on the Lincoln Memorial in Medicine Bow National Forest in Wyoming, but one cannot compare a pigeon to an eagle. Eagles are extremely arrogant and sensitive birds. This one may have been simply retaliating for some real, or imagined slight by the U.S. National Parks Service. Under ordinary circumstances he may not have been nearly so particular about the location of his toilet.
The shootout at the old town hall never did happen. I think it had more to do with public liability than the pigeon lady’s petition, but one can only admire the work that groups like hers are doing in the difficult and time consuming field of pigeon research. Consider the concerned biologist who discovered that a pigeon excretes two and one-half kilograms of feces annually. I don’t think most people realize what you would have to do to extract that sort of information from a pigeon. Such dedication is truly remarkable.
The pigeons are still at home in the Montrose town hall clock tower, but the Pigeon Lady’s gone. It seems, her work here is finished.
Of course, the Town Fathers had always preferred that the pigeons make their home in someone else’s clock tower and had tried many times to dislodge them. The most spectacular attempt, and the one which seemed to present the most promise for success, involved installing a contraption in the tower that set off deafening explosions at irregular intervals. The sound it made was remarkably similar to discharging a 12-gauge shotgun in a broom closet. The first time it went off, the pigeons all took flight in great alarm and began circling around the tower. Just as everyone was shaking hands and congratulating each other, the birds landed again. For three days this happened every time the thing went off. By the fourth day, the pigeons didn’t even bother moving. Some of them didn’t even wake up. Of course, it bothered the citizens a great deal more than the birds. By the fifth day the streets were deserted. By the seventh day, when the downtown merchants were on bended knees, begging, the Council voted to remove the contraption.
All previous attempts to find a new home for the pigeons had ended with similar results and were, more or less, harmless, but the ’76 affair took on a far more sinister aspect. In the previous November election, the citizens of Montrose had elected one of the towns three Doctors to Council. At his first meeting, he reported that pigeon excretions contain a microorganism called Histoplasm Capsulatum. “Furthermore,” he reported. “This microorganism is responsible for a pulmonary tract disease in humans called histoplasmosis.” He went on to say that 25,000 people across the country are infected with the ailment every year. You can imagine what a flap this caused on Council. After debating the issue for three full meetings, even though no one could recall a case of histoplasmosis in the history of Montrose, they voted to authorize the shooting of the pigeons under the supervision of the Police Chief.
This decision very nearly brought the town of Montrose to the brink of civil war. Wives and husbands separated over the issue. Brothers turned against brothers, fathers and sons were at each other’s throats. These were terrible times in Montrose. In the middle of all this turmoil, a woman approached me on the street with a petition protesting the shootout at the old town hall. I was not in favour of shooting pigeons and I intended to sign her petition until she went on to describe a strange theory she had. It seems the leaders of her group had spent some time observing the pigeons in Trafalgar Square during World War II. They insisted that their research indicated that whenever structures such as Nelsons Monument are available to them, pigeons prefer them to public buildings. Because of this, they felt the answer to the town’s problem rested not in shooting pigeons, but in providing bigger and better monuments.
All I know about pigeons I have learned from those at the Montrose town hall and a pair that inhabit my barn at home. I told the lady that I didn’t want to see the pigeons shot, but I would have to see much more study done before I would support spending public money to build monuments for pigeons. As near as I can determine, the town hall pigeons are not nearly as discerning as their Trafalgar Square counterparts about where they deposit their excretions. They operate on the roof, the windowsills, front steps, the face of the clock, heads of strangers, in fact, just about any place they feel the need. Those at my home distribute their histoplasm capsulatum with the same reckless abandon as their urban relatives.
To be fair to the petition group, however, there is a sad lack of monuments in the town of Montrose. The pigeon lady, who was deeply involved in the field of pigeon psychology, stressed that this scarcity of monuments was a great hindrance in the accumulation of sufficient scientific data for a study of that nature. Because of this, she was doubtful that any meaningful conclusions would be forthcoming from research carried out in the Montrose vicinity. “Of Course,” she said. “You do have the Naked Mother And Child Statue in front of the library, and the Cenotaph, but being only 10 or 12 feet high, these can hardly be considered suitable for pigeon research.” Evidently, the constant strain imposed by the accuracy and timing demanded by these lower structures discourages the birds.
After my encounter with the pigeon lady, it occurred to me that perhaps my education was not as complete as I thought. With this in mind, I purchased a copy of Reinholt’s book, “Pigeons and Their Habits.” This work was undertaken for the Gugenheim Institute for Pigeon Research in 1483 and is the most comprehensive volume available on the subject. When I spoke to her several days later I asked her what she thought of Reinholt’s suggestion that due to the size of their brains, it was doubtful that pigeons possess sufficient intelligence to make the type of decisions she was claiming for them. She replied that while Reinholt’s book was the most recently published work on the subject, it was after all, an old book. Since it was published only eight years after the introduction of printing into England, she felt it could hardly be considered a reliable source of information. “Besides,” she said. “Recent studies have shown that while a pigeon’s brain is admittedly small, it is a full 0.75 percent of its body weight. The human brain in contrast only represents 0.62 percent of body weight.” I’m not sure how accurate her figures were, but it seems to me that due to the more uniform size of pigeons, figures of this type are more easily applied to them than to humans. Many human beings of truly impressive proportions are complete birdbrains. It’s unlikely that any of this does anything to establish the intelligence of pigeons, but in a way, it does seem to make sense.
In the interest of objectivity, I must admit that I have never witnesses a pigeon operating in the vicinity of a monument of any consequence. It’s highly possible that given more choice they might be choosier. I did observe an eagle decorating the beard on the Lincoln Memorial in Medicine Bow National Forest in Wyoming, but one cannot compare a pigeon to an eagle. Eagles are extremely arrogant and sensitive birds. This one may have been simply retaliating for some real, or imagined slight by the U.S. National Parks Service. Under ordinary circumstances he may not have been nearly so particular about the location of his toilet.
The shootout at the old town hall never did happen. I think it had more to do with public liability than the pigeon lady’s petition, but one can only admire the work that groups like hers are doing in the difficult and time consuming field of pigeon research. Consider the concerned biologist who discovered that a pigeon excretes two and one-half kilograms of feces annually. I don’t think most people realize what you would have to do to extract that sort of information from a pigeon. Such dedication is truly remarkable.
The pigeons are still at home in the Montrose town hall clock tower, but the Pigeon Lady’s gone. It seems, her work here is finished.
posted by Don Edmiston at 9:42 AM
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