Ungraceful Pigeon

Caught at just the right (wrong?) moment in its takeoff -- looks both awkward and strange, as if it were not rising so much as just floating.

Related post:  Just Looks Odd

Watch Out, Little Man

 

Little Red-Footed Creep Checking Me Out

Pas De Deux

 

Pigeon Confrontation

I was just walking down the sidewalk when this pigeon swooped in out of nowhere and decided to just get in my face.  It actually did a fair imitation of a hummingbird, making a commendable attempt at hovering in place at face level (I didn't even know pigeons could do this), barely two feet in front of my nose.  I was so startled that at first I just instinctively tried to shoo it away and it didn't even occur to me to take a photo of this crazy happening, and when I finally did pull out my phone camera, the pigeon had had enough of the "human baiting" and was settling down onto the pavement.  I was so miffed at having missed this rare opportunity that I went chasing after the pigeon yelling "whoa! giddiyap!" (I didn't know what sound you're supposed to make at a pigeon), trying to get it to take off and come at me again, but all it did to oblige me was providing this brief profile.  It's better than nothing I guess, but it hardly reproduces the impact of a flying face-off.

Off With His Head!

Or maybe "Headfirst".  The Columbidae equivalent of Dumpster Diving?  Or maybe the pigeon perceived my approach as threatening, and is doing what ostriches supposedly do when feeling threatened.  Anyway, I have to say I don't recall seeing pigeons do that before -- but I'm sure pigeons do a lot of things I haven't yet seen them do.  In any case, this sort of thing can only help to cement their image in some circles as "rats on the wing".  I know it sounds harsh, but really...

Subway Roof In Late Afternoon

I'm No Friend Of Pigeons, But...

Today I went out and shot (photographed, not hunted^) pigeons in the plaza.  Not on the ground, but in the air as they flew in to land on their customary roost on the roof of the metro entrance, with the waxing moon providing the backdrop.  I had to be patient and be prepared to brave the freezing winds because the rascally pigeons kept blithely ignoring my telepathic commands^, but anyway after a fair while and many wasted shots, I had a handful of images I considered presentable.  Here are the best five of the bunch:

 

And as a kind of humorous also-ran, here's one I'm calling "Pigeon carrying the Moon piggyback":

Pigeon With A Cat Silhouette

on its wing

To turn it into a proper "silhouette", I inverted the black and white

Reminded me of this stuffed cat I picked up on one of my prior trips to Seoul

and of course, the maneki neko, like this one found online

Pigeons In The Cold

HOW I KILLED TWO PIGEONS

I've sometimes wondered where all the pigeons in the parks and plazas go at night.  During the day, there they are, strutting around in their (seeming) thousands, competing for sidewalk space with busy humans, crapping everywhere, then once darkness comes they are -- whoosh! -- gone.  Where do they disappear to?

Once I killed a pigeon by accident -- I was driving up a freeway ramp, accelerating to join the traffic flow, when suddenly this pigeon shot up out of nowhere, tried to fly across in front of my pickup and crashed into the windshield.  I did not bother stopping to check.

And I've killed another one -- deliberately.  At the time I was living in an upper-floor apartment with a balcony.  A small flock of pigeons frequented the roof of a house across the lane, and at one point two of their members -- presumably a mating pair -- decided to fly over and enfeoff my balcony as their private domain.  Every time I saw them cooing around, tramping on the furniture and ducking in and out around all the items that had accumulated there over time, I would get annoyed and chase them away, but they stubbornly kept coming back again and again.  I don't like my private space invaded -- not by people, not by bugs, and not by birds -- and it was as if they were determined to pester me day after day.

Finally, one day I just couldn't take it any more and went after them with a "reach extender" -- you know, one of those devices with a handle and trigger at one end of a shaft and a claw at the other end --

(courtesy of the internet)

because I'd read that pigeons are filthy, infested with external parasites, even that they are "rats on the wing", and didn't want to touch them.  One of them managed to fly off immediately, but the other one was trapped among the large miscellany of objects on the balcony and although I had a time of it, I finally succeeded in grabbing it around its chest.  I held it upside down, then smashed it headfirst onto the parapet, presumably breaking its neck, or skull, or both.  Its mate never came back after that.

Anyhow, as to where pigeons go at night, I guess they "take shelter" like this:

Except, of course, it's no shelter at all.  When I saw them like this in an alley in the late afternoon, exposed to the freezing wind and looking miserably subdued and gloomy, I actually felt sorry for them.

Select related posts:  I Guess "Lucky" Really Isn't...

                                   Errant Wing

                                   Dead Bird

I Guess "Lucky" Really Isn't The Word To Use here...

"Serendipitous", maybe?  That doesn't seem quite appropriate either, but plain old "coincidence" doesn't seem to do the incident justice, somehow.  A "meaningful coincidence"?  Maybe, but I don't really know what meaning to ascribe to it.

Anyway, a few hours earlier I set out on a walk, like I do every day.  As I was passing by this grocery store I heard a dull thud;  I turned to look, and there was what might have been a crumpled hat (I was wearing very dark sunglasses and it tends to filter out details to some degree).  Thinking it might have been dropped by a construction worker working high up, I went and looked closer -- and realized it was a dove.

It was still alive, just barely.  I immediately took out my phone camera, and as I clicked away it closed its eyes (well, its nictitating membranes) and stopped moving -- I had just witnessed the death of the creature.  I should have switched to video mode and recorded its dying moment, I could have kicked myself.

The shop proprietor saw me shooting away, became curious and came out.  I told him the bird had just fallen a moment before.  Then a woman came along, seemed curious and gingerly turned the little body over with her foot.

The proprietor went back inside and came back out carrying a plastic bag, grumbling about something so inauspicious happening right in front of his shop.

I had only once before witnessed the actual dying of a creature.  Many years ago I was renting a room in an old building to use as a painting studio.  One day, as I was climbing the stairs I happened to look out the window over the landing, and saw a butterfly flutter down on the roof of the building next door.  Amazingly, it fell onto its side and didn't move, exept for its upper wing being blown about by the breeze.  I had just witnessed the end of its life.  Some years later, in creative writing class I wrote a short story inspired by the incident.  It was titled "A Small Death" and was about a boy recalling the death of a butterfly while attending his older brother's funeral.  Unfortunately, I don't have it any more.

Here are three close-calls from the past, where I narrowly missed witnessing the dying moment of some creature:  

Dead Bird

Another Butterfly Story

Dead Hummingbird

Alley Cats

stalking pigeons.

 

After The Rain

Fallen leaves

(Uh...)

Cool Pigeon

And cloud asking for a kiss

An Accosting Pigeon

"Attention Ho"

There's one in every bunch.  You know the one, that one clown that just has to stand out.

Related post:  Attention-Loving Pigeon

The Wrinkle-Lipped Serpent

Hungrily eyeing the fat pigeon.  Definitely a cousin of the aforementioned "Red Monster".

Pigeon Tracks In The Snow

On the glass roof of the subway entrance.

Errant Wing

On the way home from the market today, I came across this torn-off wing on the sidewalk.  Pigeon, by the looks of it, so that means now there is a pigeon somewhere out there that's flying around on just one wing, with the avian equivalent of a limp.

Lame humor aside, I am reminded of the legend of the one-winged bird, bi-ik-jo (kr. 비익조).  The males and females are hatched with just one eye and one wing on opposite sides, so that in order to fly they must pair up as one body and forever depend on each other.  It is often used as a metaphor for a couple deeply, inseparably, in love.

Here are a few illustrations I found:

Related Posts:  Dead Bird;  Errant Snowman

Maximum Security Pigeons