In defence of pigeons

Tank Green/ May 15, 2025/ Reviews

Dearly beloved, I have come here today to write in defence of pigeons. Specifically, feral pigeons, those modern descendants of the domesticated type. Wood and other wild pigeons are fine and all that, but I do not speak of them here. Feral pigeons, or pidgepots as I like to call them, are some of the most memorable birds that one is likely to encounter in a grimy inner-city environment. I should know, given that I spend at least an hour every day feeding them.

My love of pidgerooskis started unintentionally. As I have elsewhere reported, I accidentally installed Pigeon TV from the Lidl in my flat a few years ago. Whilst I have moved onto a direct feeding mechanism (i.e. my hand out the window and/or seeds left on the windowsill), Pigeon TV enabled me to form a lasting bond with three pigeons in particular: Axe Neck, Brownie, and Whitey.

However, at some point over the winter, I fell in love with an elderly, one-eyed, generally disabled, red crested pochard duck in my local park. I called him Mr On-E, others called him Chris, others still Roger. Sadly Mr Chris Roger On-E has gone to duck heaven now, but as a consequence of my commitment to feeding this beloved duck nourishing food for the rest of its life, I ended up finding immense joy in feeding all the birds of the park, including the pigeons.

As such, as well as Brownie and Whitey at home (Axe Neck has either moved on, died, or healed so that I no longer recognise it), I also have Fucked Up Face Pigeon and Fancy Face Pigeon to love and cherish in the park. These two in particular come and fly about my head when they see me and then land on the nearest fence, waiting to eat from my hand. They are my dearly beloveds for whom I procure a wide range of seeds and snacks, with an extra emphasis on black sunflower seeds since Fucked Up Face Pigeon in particular loves those.

History of human and pigeon love

It is through getting to know the pidgepots of my window and the park over the last few years, that I come here now to write with absolute authority on the subject of pigeons. Authority, and also a request: please, dear readers, may you learn to love this most curious and intelligent of birds as they live for human affection.

As some of you will likely know, the feral pigeons of cities are actually the descendants of domestic pigeons which were bred from the, now rare, wild rock dove. For humans, this piece of history is, at worst ignored, and at best, seems to register as a largely uninterrogated fact without any gravitas. Indeed, even though I have been feeding these hilarious creatures for several years and spend an inordinate amount of money on bird food from Poundland, I, the almost patron saint of pidgepots, did not, until recently, realise how profoundly the fact of our entwined histories continues to mark the lives of pigeons today.

My veil of ignorance was recently removed whilst I was waiting for a train after a hike in a small-town station. I saw a pigeon fly into the covered section of the open platform with a twig in its beak. I then noticed that another pigeon was nesting in a pitiful amount of twigs on an iron beam above my head. As I looked up at the nesting pigeon, its eyes met mine in the most mournful manner and I felt, with utter clarity, the lament that is a feral pigeon’s life. A lament that cuts both species to the bone, and it’s not because pidgepots deal with atrocities like having one foot or eye, or being generally despised as “flying rats”, either.

Have you noticed that pigeons only nest in buildings, under bridges, and other human-made structures? Have you ever stopped to wonder why this is? Well, let me tell you: it is because pidgepots want to be close to us. They have faithfully carried down the history of our ancient relationship with them and so they nest in close proximity to us, waiting for the moment that we remember to love them again. This is also why feral pigeons are concentrated in the places where humans are concentrated: cities. This is why it is incumbent on us to learn to love them again.

Contemporary reasons to love a pigeon

I, for one, value consistency and obtaining this sharp insight into the eternal love of the feral pigeon mind inspires in me the desire to proselytise why you too should love at least one pigeon back. So let me detail the many worthy qualities of a pidgepot.

1. Legs: My most favourite thing about a pidgie is their legs: they are like little fluffy jodhpurs with red riding boots. They help the pigeon to stand so sturdily and even enable a jaunty jog.
2. Colours: My second favourite thing is their colours and variety: not only do they all have lovely pink and green shimmery necks, but you get white ones and brown ones, grey ones and black ones. Some of them even have white markings on their otherwise grey faces, like Tippex I and II who visit me at home. Whitey has lovely big black eyes and a pink beak, and Brownie is a warm range of friendly browns. There are also speckles types of which Fancy Face is an absolute pleasure of an example.
3. Personality: Another reason to love pidgepots is because of how friendly and curious they are. They love to sit on my windowsill, observing me as I go about my business. Why, one or two even pop their wee heads through the window to say hello every now and then. Pigeons are unequivocally the most grateful and hopeful birds on earth and our lives are enriched by their presence. They are always willing to try again to trust you.
4. Sounds: Pigeons also make a wide variety of interesting noises from the basic coo, to a mechanical squeaky taking off noise, to a throaty growl. Between them and the starlings, I’ve always got someone singing me a song.
5. Top moves: Finally, there is, of course, also the hilarious spectacle of the male pidgies being perpetually ignored by the lady pidgies, despite their wonderful circular dance moves. In general, pidgepots are jaunty bobbers who strut around in mobs of confidence and are a delight to behold.

So there you have it, an entire compendium of reasons to love pigeons. Love them for our shared histories, for their consistency, for their jaunty little jodhpur leg bobs, and most especially love them extra hard for their eternal fidelity to humans.