I live in an urban area where we're accustomed to four kinds of wild creatures: pigeons and sparrows in the air, and squirrels and rats on the ground. Anything else is exotic.
As is typical of urban buildings, ours has strips of wire spikes atop all the windows, doors, and ledges of our back stairway to prevent these creatures from cohabiting with us. And with the exception of some delightful purple finches who managed to make a nest in the outermost corner of our stairway roof a few years ago, the spikes have successfully fulfilled their purpose. Until now.
This Spring, some pigeons attempted to build a nest in the inch or so of space between the spikes and the wall. They failed.
But they tried again behind the spikes above a window, where another inch or so of space granted them success. It was a narrow, haphazard nest that left little room for the adult pigeon, but it was enough.
I was thrilled. How often do you get to watch baby pigeons? My neighbor, whose back door was opposite the sentry adults, was less thrilled.
I curtailed my trips down that back stairway—partially because I didn't want to traumatize the nesters, partially because I didn't want them to traumatize me. They didn't always stay on the nest. More often they were sitting on our third-floor landing or on the railing. A trek down our stairs incited frantic cries and frenzied movement from the birds. And dodging their waste matter now caking our stairway was unpleasant.
Soon enough, though, two babies could be spied in the nest. And last weekend they literally flew the coop. Our avian squatters were moving on.
I was relieved. Until last night.
I was headed down the back stairs to the basement and when I reached the second floor landing, there was a new pigeon nest. Well, "new" may not be the appropriate adjective. Remember the failed home-construction attempt of the first pigeons? Some of the twigs fell away from that nest onto the wood flooring below. The new pigeons hauled those few twigs into the corner of the landing, which isn't really a corner unless the outer door of the apartment is ajar. Which it is right now only because someone didn't latch it properly. But the pigeons didn't know that. They probably view the door as some kind of armored protection for their two eggs. They probably view themselves as brilliant.
One pigeon stood guard near the twigs. I spoke softly to her/him, hoping to get past without a conflict. But then on the first-floor landing were two more pigeons acting AS IF they had a nest there, above the door. But there was no nest to be seen.
I don't know what this means. I read Birdy and watched Little Voice, but can't recall anything that would help me understand our pigeons' behavior. I haven't researched it yet and, frankly, I'm a little afraid of what I might learn.
Those two eggs on the ground aren't safe. If by some miracle they suffer no damage and hatch, then most assuredly the infant birds are vulnerable to any number of predators.
Should we intervene now? Move the eggs? Put vegetable oil on them? (Isn't that how the gull and geese populations are reduced?) Guess I have some Googling to do.
I like animals and I want to do what's best for them. But I'm not keen on sharing space with pigeons. Or any other creature that I worry may attack me as I'm trying to use my own stairs.
What would PETA do?
ur new neighbor displays a PETA sticker on her car. When my husband first saw it, he couldn’t wait to tell me. He thought I’d have a new pal to discuss animals and rescue with.
