On Pigeons

This morning I woke up to find that the pigeon I had been rehabbing passed away in her cage overnight. I got dressed, and took her body to the park in the shoebox that I weighed her in every night. I found a nice secluded tree, and placed her small fragile body into a small grave that I had dug with a trowel. I returned back home, and cleaned her cage one last time.

I never intended to be a "pigeon guy". It started out simply enough, feeding the birds at my small park. I found a banded racing pigeon and after reaching out to a local pigeon rescue they encouraged me to catch it and hold onto it for a few days until they could find a new home for her. It turns out that she was a lost racing pigeon from Dunkirk, who had found herself in my little park in Amsterdam over 300km away.

It turns out you can just take pigeons from the park, no one will stop you! I kept her in a makeshift enclosure for a week, feeding her dove seeds while she kept me company, perching on my shelves watching me work. Pigeons are pretty intelligent creatures, they know when they're safe, who gives them food, and when the hands picking them up are there to help.

My first rescue, over a year ago, ended up going to a nice man with a loft of former racing pigeons. In the meantime I've rescued other pigeons, all feral, with various foot injuries or broken wings, have all gone back to live with their feathered brothers and sisters. Even when a feral needs medication, they typically get back on their feet quickly.

Most pigeons that I rehabbed didn't want much to do with me. With the exception of the racing pigeon, the other rehabs would prefer to be left alone in their crate. My last rehab was different.

I found her in my entry way one night when I was taking out the trash, it was around 9pm and it was dark, I almost didn't see her huddled up in the dark. It's especially worrying if pigeons are grounded after dark, as they're vulnerable to predators. I scooped her up and took her upstairs.

At first, it seemed straight forward; as she had just some hair tangled up in her feet. I got my cuticle scissors and gently removed the strands wrapped around her toes. When I went to weight her, she was very underweight, around 240g. A healthy feral pigeon is minimum 300g. She would need some more rehab time to get her back to weight.

It quickly became clear that she had been ill for a while.

I found a lash egg in her crate the next morning, which is a small, deformed bean sized egg which is a symptom of an ovary infection. I consulted with another rehabber and a vet, it's treatable but only in early stages. I got a course of antibiotics and started giving her nightly doses.

Her weight kept dropping, even after feeding her peas by hand every night, her remaining energy slowly dwindled. I held her every night, petting her head and talking to her between a few peas. We quickly got used to our little routine, but it was clear that she wasn't eating nearly as much as she should be, and not as much as I could feed her.

I knew that rehabbing always carried the risk that I would lose one. I didn't know how painful it would be to watch one slip away, knowing that there was little that I could do more for her.

Every night I held onto her for a little longer, she'd rest in the crook of my arm while I watched videos or caught up on my reading list at my desk. Perfectly content with being loosely wrapped in a dishtowel. I'd like to think that she knew I was a safe person.

She wasn't getting better. Every morning I woke up, wondering if I would find her in a forever sleep. This morning was that morning.

Nature will run its course.

I think about how foolish and selfish we are to interfere with nature. Pigeons, often, suffer at the hands of humans more than natural causes. Feral pigeons get sick, get stepped on, hit by cars, hunted, poisoned. Even though they were just as domesticated as cats or dogs. Unloved, and abandoned.

But for this one, very special pigeon, she knew that she was loved. 🕊️