Monday 17 October 2011

The Arrogance of Pigeons

I remember a time, a simpler time, when should you approach a pigeon in the street it would make a spectacularly hasty exit from your path. This is no more. And what's worse; they're also bigger.

Today, I was walking up Northumberland St on my way to Marksies.  They were bloody everywhere. Not only do they no longer scatter as you approach them, meaning you have to WALK AROUND them, but they are also swooping at such a low height that I found myself screeching and ducking more than once.  And as I did so I wondered, when did pigeons become so arrogant?

It's as if the big guns of the pigeon world have moved in; after years of pandering to our human needs to own the pathway the Don is passing the message on to rebel.  It cast my mind back to 2000 when Ken Livingstone, then mayor of London, removed the Trafalgar Square bird food seller’s licence and uproar ensued.  Even at the time, age 13 living however many miles away in Tyne and Wear, I remember wondering what all the fuss was about and being a little bit relieved since I so hated these 'flying rats'.  I think I imagined them all starving and being wiped out within no time.  Quite the opposite has occurred in fact! They're multiplying, shuffling around eating left over pasties, swooping low, inciting fear and now with an arrogance akin to one of those hoodie kids the Daily (f)Mail talk about.  They'll be signing on next. 

I wonder sometimes where this hatred has stemmed from, my Grandad used to race them, surely they should encourage some nostalgia from me instead of such irritation and disgust?  Well, no they haven't quite managed it yet.  Saying that, I think those photos of folk in the middle of say Trafalgar Square or somewhere in Paris where they're in the middle of a hord of pigeons, some of whom are mid flight, can be quite, well nice really.  Trouble is, I'd never be able to pose for one of these.  It's like, literally, my worst nightmare.  I'm constantly making a fool of myself screaming at them in the street.  This one time a child, I'm sure I saw a faint '666' on his forehead, ran at a pigeon and it pretty much flew straight into my face.  I was lucky the tip of my nose and its arse hole didn't become more well acquainted such was the close proximity of that encounter.  Worry not; I made it spectacularly clear to both child and his mother how unimpressed I was by dashing into HMV to recover. 

So there you have it; my first blog post and a justified attack on pigeons.  Time for a gin.

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