 |
| Photo by Jennifer E. Miller, 2016 |
Social Characteristics of Doves and
Pigeons
Doves and pigeons are basically the
same bird. Except one is primarily found in the cities asking for handouts like
a welfare junkie, while the other is in the wild living off the land.
Pigeons are urban dwellers. They hang
out on lampposts and park benches; stalk people from statues and rooftops; and annoyingly
tailgate unsuspecting victims. Once they’ve zeroed in on someone to pester, they
inch their way closer and closer, until the person senses they are followed.
Upon turning around, they find the pigeons about-face, pretending like
nothing odd is transpiring.
Another strategy is ambushing city
dwellers. By hanging out above ground, say in a tree, large numbers of
them are less likely to be immediately spotted. Imagine a person enjoying a
refreshing afternoon lunch break with a sandwich in hand, strolling through the
park. He expects to walk back to the office without incident while taking periodic
bites from the sandwich. Then it happens. He walks under a tree momentarily
enjoying the shade, while a flock of pigeons signal to one another. In unison,
they swoop down from the branches, landing on the ground, and crisscross their
way aimlessly on the ground in front of the city dweller, surprising him. He
has never seen so many birds congregate this close.
The pigeons cock their heads, cooing
away in a secret language he can’t decipher. Mistakenly, he thinks this is a cool
experience. He studies them, when one flaps its wings, approaching him. It
hovers midair near his arm, the one holding the sandwich, which he naively moves
away from his body to create a perch. The pigeon lands on it and lets out a throaty
coo. Another one flies on next to the first. A third assumes positions on the
opposite shoulder. Letting out a chuckle, the city-dweller enjoys the
attention. Then it happens. The pigeons peck at his sandwich. They tried to
tell him in their language, that they wanted a handout, but he didn’t get the
message and have now resorted to an ambush strategy.
He tries to swat them away, but more
and more pigeons fly up to their victim, flapping feathers and dust into his
face. With no other option, the city dweller drops his sandwich and runs back
to the office. Success!
Doves, on the other hand, live
quietly in the forest nestled somewhere in the trees. They are self-sufficient
creatures—until they find the backyard patio feeder in the early morning hours.
They typically scope out the grub by sitting on a fence post or railing. With a squawk, they flap themselves to the ground to walk toward the ground feeder.
They have tiny skinny little legs and small heads compared to their plump
bodies, and thrust their heads forward while walking as though it’s going to
propel them to the feast faster. A few doves is all it takes to quickly
desecrate the seed offering.
Others show up at the food site,
only to find the feeder empty, which kick start their city cousin instincts. They
don't view the birdseed as a handout, but rather there needs to be
fairness with plenty to go around. When there isn’t enough to share, they coo loudly,
intending to wake up the human who supplies it. If that doesn’t work, they gently
tap on the window with their beaks. In extreme cases, the flock sends a kamikaze
into the window with a wakening thump. The bird, plastered awkwardly to the
glass, slides down into oblivion. The human sits up, rubs her tired eyes, and
looks out the window. Feeling bad for the dove, and riddled with sorrow and
guilt, she notices the empty feeder and promptly refills it. Soon an entire extended
family of dove have arrived to eat.
The doves’ feast appears harmonious
and jolly, until they notice the quail lining up on the rooftop…
Copyright 2018 Jennifer E. Miller
No comments:
Post a Comment