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I've
always been something of a bunny-lover (cats, dogs, mice, rats,
coelcanths - you name it), but I'd never felt that
strongly about birds
- that is, until one day when my wife (that's right, my wife) Pauline
came home with a suprise - and what a suprise it turned out to be!
Wanna know more? (Why, I'm sure
you do...) Here, then, for your
edification and amusement, is the story (told by both Pauline and
myself) of the smartest, savviest and most affectionate pigeon in the
whole of White City - Pigeon Pie!
Pauline: One day, in June 2004, I was walking down the street when I happened to bump into one of our neighbours. He had in his hand a really cute little baby pigeon who had fallen from his nest onto the road below. This neighbour, however, wasn't able to look after the pigeon; so when I offered to take him off his hands, he was more than happy to oblige. Pie (the name Luis and I gave the baby pigeon) wasn't yet able to fly; however, he was able to eat on his own, although at first I didn't know this and tried to feed him without much success (although I was able to get a little bit of creamed rice into him). Before long, though, Pie was feeding himself on breadcrumbs which I put out for him. Luis and I kept him in a big gold cage (3 ft. tall by 4 ft. wide by 2 ft. deep) in our spare room. The cage was given to us by our next-door neighbour, Andy. He used to keep his rats in it until the rats became too many and he had to get a bigger cage. Andy had given it to us about one and a half years previously, and thank you God, we kept it. It made a perfect home for Pie. Two or three times a day I got him out of his cage after I had cleaned it, and he would sit on my hand watching me intently while I talked to him and stroked him, telling him how lovely and good he was and how much I loved him. If I put him on top of the cage, he would spin around in circles, first one way and then the other, he was so excited to be out, then he walked around looking at everything. Sometimes he liked to play a game where he kind of fenced with his beak against my finger. He also liked to peck my fingers and my hand gently, this is a bird's way of kissing. At first he could only manage to fly up a few feet before dropping back down again. He was so clever, though, that he knew that if he stood in the centre of his cage, he could fly up and exercise his wings without hitting them against his perches. I put two perches up in his cage, one low down and one high up. To begin with, when I came to get him out, I had to pick him up, but after four or five days I found him sitting on the high perch, and if I put my hand out for him he would step onto it and wait for me to carry him out. I couldn't believe how quickly he learnt. After about a week, Luis helped me to de-flea him, as the poor darling was being driven mad by these horrible little mites. They may be tiny, almost too small to see unless you look really hard, but I got bitten by them a couple of times and by God, they pack a punch. They must have been really hurting as well as irritating. However, before long they were all gone, thank heavens. I bought Pie a spray as well as some plume spray for his feathers.I used it a couple of times, but he was really afraid of it, so I didn't use it anymore. While I was buying the flea powder, I found out that breadcrumbs have no goodness in them, they just filled Pie up; so I started giving him bird seed instead, which he liked much better. He also adored millet spray, he would always fly straight for it when I brought it into his room. After about ten days, he could fly a bit better; only a few feet, but he was improving all the time.
Pauline with Pie; mid-2004. Photo: Luis Drayton.
Luis: When I think of Pie, the first memory that comes to mind is from the period when he was learning to fly; and because of this, Pauline and I were keeping him in a cage to prevent him from hurting himself. Every morning, we made our way down the corridor to the spare bedroom where we were keeping Pie, and on opening the door, we were always presented with the same sight; that of Pie pacing impatiently up and down the length of his cage, waiting to be let out. Clearly, he was always listening out for the sound of our approaching footsteps, just so he could put on a little show for us, in order to indicate just how much he valued our company. Anyway, as I approached the cage and opened the door, Pie would hop up onto one of the horizontal bars on which he liked to perch, and wait for me to put my hand out. He would then hop onto my hand and wait while I slowly manoeuvred him out of the cage's narrow entrance. The moment he was out, he flew right up into the air, and then over to his favourite spot, which was a cushion sitting on an old writing desk by the door. He was so full of unused energy at this point, that he would pause in order to swivel round in mid-air. Having come in to land, he would begin an act, which at first, Pauline and I found puzzling, to say the least. Standing all the while on the same spot, Pie first went round and round and round in an anti-clockwise direction. Eventually, he came to a stop in his original position, facing us. He then began to go round and round once more, only this time in the opposite direction! To begin with, Pauline and I couldn't understand the purpose of this unusual behaviour. However, it wasn't long before we realised what it was all about; it was simply that Pie was so happy and excited to be out of his cage and in our company, and this was his way of expressing his happiness and excitement, as well as working off a little of that excess energy into the bargain. After that, Pie would spend a minute or two inspecting his surroundings, making sure everything met his (no doubt) high standards. Then Pauline, who was standing five or six feet away, would call out to him with her arm outstretched and palm open. As soon as Pie saw Pauline with her arm outstretched, waiting for him, he would fly up into the air and over to her. Pauline said to me that the thing she always noticed about Pie as he flew over to her was his feet, which were bunched up into two tight little pink fists. As he came into land, Pauline said, Pie's feet would open out, something like landing craft on an aeroplane. Then Pauline would lift her hand up so that Pie was facing her, and she would begin talking to him.
During his time with us, Pie learnt to play a number of different games; some we created with him, others he made up by himself. One game consisted of Pauline placing her hand at one end of a couch we had sitting in the spare room. Pie would be standing at the other end, and as soon as Pauline called to him, he would come running up towards her, each time finishing his sprint by burying his head between her fingers in a show of affection. Then Pie would run back down to the other end of the couch, and the game would begin again. In another game, Pauline would repeatedly drum her fingernails on the surface of the old writing desk that stood beside the door. This always inspired Pie to do the same with his beak, and in time with Pauline's fingers too. Pauline and I both knew how strange Pie considered our hands to be, and we soon came to the conclusion that he was simply extremely happy at discovering that the strange appendages humans had attached to their bodies were not dissimilar to his beak. Pie's favourite game, however, involved a couple of little metal ball-shaped bells, which, by means of a piece of ribbon, Pauline had attached to the back of her chair. As Pauline pulled on one end of the ribbon, Pie would pull on the other, and a miniature tug-of-war would result. Meanwhile the little bells would ring madly, and as Pie pulled with all his might, his toes would lift involuntarily. Pauline and I considered this to be a particularly good game, as it was not only good fun, but also good exercise for Pie, not to mention a way of helping him build up his muscles.
Looking back, I should have seen it coming, yet Pie never gave me any sort of indication that he was starting to feel jealous towards me. Instead, he chose to make his feelings bluntly apparent, on a day when I went into the spare room with Pauline, wearing nothing but a T-Shirt and boxer shorts. I had been sitting on the edge of the couch for only a few minutes when Pie walked up towards me, very innocently hopped onto my bare thigh, and then... AAARRRGGHH! I yelled, as Pie, in one swift, drinking-bird-like movement, plunged his beak downwards, giving me a good, hard peck. I immediately jumped up, and making vague defensive gestures with my hands, cried 'Shoo! Shoo!' in a half-arsed attempt to fend Pie off. Pie, however, did not back off; on the contrary, he remained standing on the seat of the couch, just a few inches from me, and with a very determined look about him. Clearly, he was quite ready to fight for Pauline - which was more than I was! Filled with anxiety, and not for one second taking my eyes off the angry pigeon standing on the couch, I got up and made a hurried exit. Pie was clearly growing up.
Pauline: One day, in June 2004, I was walking down the street when I happened to bump into one of our neighbours. He had in his hand a really cute little baby pigeon who had fallen from his nest onto the road below. This neighbour, however, wasn't able to look after the pigeon; so when I offered to take him off his hands, he was more than happy to oblige. Pie (the name Luis and I gave the baby pigeon) wasn't yet able to fly; however, he was able to eat on his own, although at first I didn't know this and tried to feed him without much success (although I was able to get a little bit of creamed rice into him). Before long, though, Pie was feeding himself on breadcrumbs which I put out for him. Luis and I kept him in a big gold cage (3 ft. tall by 4 ft. wide by 2 ft. deep) in our spare room. The cage was given to us by our next-door neighbour, Andy. He used to keep his rats in it until the rats became too many and he had to get a bigger cage. Andy had given it to us about one and a half years previously, and thank you God, we kept it. It made a perfect home for Pie. Two or three times a day I got him out of his cage after I had cleaned it, and he would sit on my hand watching me intently while I talked to him and stroked him, telling him how lovely and good he was and how much I loved him. If I put him on top of the cage, he would spin around in circles, first one way and then the other, he was so excited to be out, then he walked around looking at everything. Sometimes he liked to play a game where he kind of fenced with his beak against my finger. He also liked to peck my fingers and my hand gently, this is a bird's way of kissing. At first he could only manage to fly up a few feet before dropping back down again. He was so clever, though, that he knew that if he stood in the centre of his cage, he could fly up and exercise his wings without hitting them against his perches. I put two perches up in his cage, one low down and one high up. To begin with, when I came to get him out, I had to pick him up, but after four or five days I found him sitting on the high perch, and if I put my hand out for him he would step onto it and wait for me to carry him out. I couldn't believe how quickly he learnt. After about a week, Luis helped me to de-flea him, as the poor darling was being driven mad by these horrible little mites. They may be tiny, almost too small to see unless you look really hard, but I got bitten by them a couple of times and by God, they pack a punch. They must have been really hurting as well as irritating. However, before long they were all gone, thank heavens. I bought Pie a spray as well as some plume spray for his feathers.I used it a couple of times, but he was really afraid of it, so I didn't use it anymore. While I was buying the flea powder, I found out that breadcrumbs have no goodness in them, they just filled Pie up; so I started giving him bird seed instead, which he liked much better. He also adored millet spray, he would always fly straight for it when I brought it into his room. After about ten days, he could fly a bit better; only a few feet, but he was improving all the time.
Pauline with Pie; mid-2004. Photo: Luis Drayton.
Luis: When I think of Pie, the first memory that comes to mind is from the period when he was learning to fly; and because of this, Pauline and I were keeping him in a cage to prevent him from hurting himself. Every morning, we made our way down the corridor to the spare bedroom where we were keeping Pie, and on opening the door, we were always presented with the same sight; that of Pie pacing impatiently up and down the length of his cage, waiting to be let out. Clearly, he was always listening out for the sound of our approaching footsteps, just so he could put on a little show for us, in order to indicate just how much he valued our company. Anyway, as I approached the cage and opened the door, Pie would hop up onto one of the horizontal bars on which he liked to perch, and wait for me to put my hand out. He would then hop onto my hand and wait while I slowly manoeuvred him out of the cage's narrow entrance. The moment he was out, he flew right up into the air, and then over to his favourite spot, which was a cushion sitting on an old writing desk by the door. He was so full of unused energy at this point, that he would pause in order to swivel round in mid-air. Having come in to land, he would begin an act, which at first, Pauline and I found puzzling, to say the least. Standing all the while on the same spot, Pie first went round and round and round in an anti-clockwise direction. Eventually, he came to a stop in his original position, facing us. He then began to go round and round once more, only this time in the opposite direction! To begin with, Pauline and I couldn't understand the purpose of this unusual behaviour. However, it wasn't long before we realised what it was all about; it was simply that Pie was so happy and excited to be out of his cage and in our company, and this was his way of expressing his happiness and excitement, as well as working off a little of that excess energy into the bargain. After that, Pie would spend a minute or two inspecting his surroundings, making sure everything met his (no doubt) high standards. Then Pauline, who was standing five or six feet away, would call out to him with her arm outstretched and palm open. As soon as Pie saw Pauline with her arm outstretched, waiting for him, he would fly up into the air and over to her. Pauline said to me that the thing she always noticed about Pie as he flew over to her was his feet, which were bunched up into two tight little pink fists. As he came into land, Pauline said, Pie's feet would open out, something like landing craft on an aeroplane. Then Pauline would lift her hand up so that Pie was facing her, and she would begin talking to him.
During his time with us, Pie learnt to play a number of different games; some we created with him, others he made up by himself. One game consisted of Pauline placing her hand at one end of a couch we had sitting in the spare room. Pie would be standing at the other end, and as soon as Pauline called to him, he would come running up towards her, each time finishing his sprint by burying his head between her fingers in a show of affection. Then Pie would run back down to the other end of the couch, and the game would begin again. In another game, Pauline would repeatedly drum her fingernails on the surface of the old writing desk that stood beside the door. This always inspired Pie to do the same with his beak, and in time with Pauline's fingers too. Pauline and I both knew how strange Pie considered our hands to be, and we soon came to the conclusion that he was simply extremely happy at discovering that the strange appendages humans had attached to their bodies were not dissimilar to his beak. Pie's favourite game, however, involved a couple of little metal ball-shaped bells, which, by means of a piece of ribbon, Pauline had attached to the back of her chair. As Pauline pulled on one end of the ribbon, Pie would pull on the other, and a miniature tug-of-war would result. Meanwhile the little bells would ring madly, and as Pie pulled with all his might, his toes would lift involuntarily. Pauline and I considered this to be a particularly good game, as it was not only good fun, but also good exercise for Pie, not to mention a way of helping him build up his muscles.
Looking back, I should have seen it coming, yet Pie never gave me any sort of indication that he was starting to feel jealous towards me. Instead, he chose to make his feelings bluntly apparent, on a day when I went into the spare room with Pauline, wearing nothing but a T-Shirt and boxer shorts. I had been sitting on the edge of the couch for only a few minutes when Pie walked up towards me, very innocently hopped onto my bare thigh, and then... AAARRRGGHH! I yelled, as Pie, in one swift, drinking-bird-like movement, plunged his beak downwards, giving me a good, hard peck. I immediately jumped up, and making vague defensive gestures with my hands, cried 'Shoo! Shoo!' in a half-arsed attempt to fend Pie off. Pie, however, did not back off; on the contrary, he remained standing on the seat of the couch, just a few inches from me, and with a very determined look about him. Clearly, he was quite ready to fight for Pauline - which was more than I was! Filled with anxiety, and not for one second taking my eyes off the angry pigeon standing on the couch, I got up and made a hurried exit. Pie was clearly growing up.
Pauline: By the time Pie
was
two months old, we had developed a bond so strong I don't think an army
could have broken it. But something was not quite right. Pie had
instincts, buried deep in his little soul, but they were there and they
proved to be stronger than any bond. For all his tameness, he was after
all a wild creature. But I'm jumping ahead - I must go back,
back to the days when he had just begun to fly; he would have been -
oh, one, one and a half months old. I had had him about three
to
four weeks. Every day he amazed me with the strength of his
personality. He liked to play a game where I would drum out tunes with
my fingers and he would tap tap tap with his beak. He got so excited
sometimes, his wings would twitch in time as I tapped. I also had a
couple of tiny cat collar bells which I attached to a red ribbon; he
loved to ring the bells and play tug-of-war with them. He was growing
very strong. I spent hours and hours with him every day. Pie soon began
to make it clear, however, that he didn't want Luis in the room with
us. It was
okay if Luis came in to see him on his own, but if I was there, Luis
wasn't welcome. Pie wanted me all to himself. This was the first sign
that all wasn't well, although I didn't see it for what it was at the
time. I mostly spent time playing with Pie and giving him lots of
affection on my own. Luis rarely joined us. But as time went on, when
he did, Pie became more and more aggressive towards him. Then one awful
day, Pie turned on me for no reason. He made angry noises and went for
me, and horror of horrors, he bit me on the lip as I was kissing him.
It broke my heart; I stood stunned and in tears that "my little Pie"
could do this to me. I, who loved him and he seemed to love so much in
return. I couldn't believe it. Things got worse. Sometimes he was nice
and sometimes he was nasty. It got to the point where I didn't know
what to expect when I went into his room. One thing was clear; he still
loved me, I knew this because he was still very affectionate and no
matter what his mood, he always flapped at the window above the door to
his room whenever I left him. He still wanted me to play and spend time
with him, but at the same time he seemed to get very angry and turn for
no reason. It was almost as if he was being torn in two. By the time he
was two and a half months old, it had become unbearable, and I knew
that I couldn't keep him any longer. He needed the company of his own
kind, it was obvious he needed to be free. After all, he
wasn't
sick, he wasn't injured, he was just tame; but only with Luis and
myself, and so I had to let him go. I left all the windows in his room
open wide for two days, but he didn't go outside, and when I went into
the room, he could be as loving or as aggressive as ever. The answer
came to me as I was standing on the balcony outside his window feeding
the pigeons below. It was clear he wanted to come out, but he was
afraid. The room was his world. It was all he had known for the past
two and a half months, a long time for a little pigeon. With tears in
my eyes blinding me, I put my head inside the window and I called to
him. He was so good, he came immediately. He flew straight onto the top
of my head. I knew what I had to do, but I just couldn't do it. I stood
there half in and half out of the window and I cried. I told him how
much I loved him and how he could always come back if ever he wanted
to. I told him how happy he had made my life and that I would never
never forget him, and I never will. After a while, I gently drew my
head out through the window until I was standing upright. He stayed on
my head, just looking around him for a minute or two, and then suddenly
he took off. I watched him as he flew across the green, and then landed
on someone else's windowsill, about eight flats away, two floors up. I
lived on the first floor; he landed on the third. I ran downstairs,
almost falling as I went. I ran round to the green, and kept
running until I was directly below him, and then I called to him. For
the first time ever, he didn't come. He just stood there on that
windowsill and watched me. I called him again and again, for about
twenty minutes to half an hour. But he was deep in thought. He kept
looking at me, then looking away. Half an hour is a long time for a
little bird to be thinking about anything. Meanwhile I just stood there
and cried, watching him and calling to him. Then all at once, he flew
high into the air, circled above me, and then he was gone. He obviously
did not want to go. But when I look back on it now, years later, I
realise that he knew he had to go, and that his little heart must have
been breaking as much as mine. Pie never has returned, and I hope that
is because he has never had to. I suppose that by now, there must be a
hundred or so little Pies out there. I don't know how long pigeons live
for, but I hope that Pie lived the longest life, for he had the best
start any bird could want. I still think about him today. Sometimes I
laugh, more often I cry. I know I'll never have what I had with Pie
again, but to have it just once, I was truly blessed.
Pauline
with Pie; mid-2004. Photo: Luis Drayton.
Well, since letting Pie fly off into the ether, Pauline and I have brought home numerous other sick/injured/fledgling pigeons, all of which we've done our best to help. And it's been good for us, I think; certainly, our experiences have taught Pauline and I to feel as much tolerance and compassion for our fellow living creatures as is humanly possible. So you can imagine how disgusted we were by the news that a new law had been passed, one making the feeding of pigeons in Trafalgar Square (and surrounding streets) illegal! I won't go into Westminster council's reasons for the ban (and the holes in their arguments), but believe me when I say this is one new law that STINKS (and worse than any puddle of pigeon shit)! Just take a look at the flyer below, and it'll give you some idea of just how constipated local councillors can be when they really put their minds to it! (And no, don't just click onto the next article - I've only spent the rest of this site acting like some fucking tranny clown, doing virtual pratfalls for your amusement; the least you can do in return is take thirty seconds to read a poxy flyer, dammit!)
Finished? Cool! Now, if you want to click on your mail provider and get on with the oh-so-important work of pestering the hell out of Ruth Kelly (sounds like fun to me!), by all means do so; however, if you're not yet fully convinced, go to: www.savethepigeons.org where you can find out everything you need to know about the byelaw (and why it deserves to be opposed!)...
Pauline
with Pie; mid-2004. Photo: Luis Drayton. Well, since letting Pie fly off into the ether, Pauline and I have brought home numerous other sick/injured/fledgling pigeons, all of which we've done our best to help. And it's been good for us, I think; certainly, our experiences have taught Pauline and I to feel as much tolerance and compassion for our fellow living creatures as is humanly possible. So you can imagine how disgusted we were by the news that a new law had been passed, one making the feeding of pigeons in Trafalgar Square (and surrounding streets) illegal! I won't go into Westminster council's reasons for the ban (and the holes in their arguments), but believe me when I say this is one new law that STINKS (and worse than any puddle of pigeon shit)! Just take a look at the flyer below, and it'll give you some idea of just how constipated local councillors can be when they really put their minds to it! (And no, don't just click onto the next article - I've only spent the rest of this site acting like some fucking tranny clown, doing virtual pratfalls for your amusement; the least you can do in return is take thirty seconds to read a poxy flyer, dammit!)
Finished? Cool! Now, if you want to click on your mail provider and get on with the oh-so-important work of pestering the hell out of Ruth Kelly (sounds like fun to me!), by all means do so; however, if you're not yet fully convinced, go to: www.savethepigeons.org where you can find out everything you need to know about the byelaw (and why it deserves to be opposed!)...