Fat Pigeons Suffer In The Heat
Before I get into my weekend birthday shenanigans, some of which I’m still trying to piece together, I thought I’d throw in a bit of investigative journalism.
This morning I was wondering what it must be like for fat pigeons when the weather is as hot as this. Pigeons tend to puff themselves up in winter, so if you see one who’s a little larger than they should be in summer, you know there are fat issues going on.
I’ve posted before about the rise in obesity in pigeons, and I’ve watched them struggle, so I thought I’d find out whether hot weather can act as a driver to lose weight…
This is Jemima. Jemima’s weight started to soar two years ago when she discovered the refuse collection times of her local McDonald’s in Kentish Town:
“It was impossible” She said. “Every night I’d be there. Couldn’t help it. I got so fat I had to move to another nest.”
I asked her if it she was embarrassed by her weight.
“Yes. I am. I feel really ashamed, but I just can’t stop eating. It’s not as bad as it was, but it’s still a problem for me.”
Apparently, Jemima can tuck away enough food for a family of six in a single sitting.
Then I asked her whether the heat got to her.
“I find the heat really uncomfortable. The tops of my legs rub together and my wings can get stuck to my body which makes flying really hard. When I was at my worst last year, I had to get a couple of pigeons to help me into the air. That was the moment I decided to do something about it.”
Whatever it was she had chosen to do obviously hadn’t worked, so I didn’t push it.
Clearly the heat is an issue, so any pigeons out there who know you’re eating too much just think of Jemima and her rubbing legs. Jesus. If that isn’t an incentive, I don’t know what is.
Like this:
Spring Is In The Air In Soho Square
I’m all up for bringing on the sunshine and hot air and all that, but not if it means every pigeon in town wants to get it on in public.
Jesus. I’ve never seen so much heavy petting. It’s like they’ve all been saving it up since January.
I almost said something to this pair in Soho Square yesterday.
It was like watching porn, but not in a good way:
They were literally down each other’s throats, and did it for ages. Totally unnecessary.
Here they are again, ten minutes into it.
Get a room, or at the very least get under a bush. Unbelievable:
“You have a bit.”
“No, you have a bit.”
“No… you have a bit.”
Whole thing made me want to be sick, not that I’m bitter or anything. Were I to meet the pigeon of my dreams, unlikely though it is, I would keep it subtle. This kind of behavior should be left in the nest. End of.
Like this:
Keep London Clean – Clearing Up Using Tail Feathers
Since my last post on ledge etiquette, I keep getting asked how the tail feather clearing method works. It’s amazing how many pigeons have never considered it, so I ventured to Piccadilly Circus earlier and found a couple willing to demonstrate, Nick and Laurence.
Laurence drew the short straw as the one who had to shit. Shitting on demand is never easy as you can see from the look of extreme concentration. This is obviously on the flat rather than a ledge or lamp, but you’ll get the drift.
Nick had asked Laurence to make it a small one as this was just for demonstration purposes. For a while though, it looked like nothing was happening:
Then, finally, out it came:
The trick to getting a stranger to help is to ask them as quietly and discreetly as possible. Most pigeons have no objection to helping out, but many of them would rather not have the whole world know about it.
Here’s Laurence subtly asking Nick for some assistance:
“Mate, would you mind giving me a hand? I’ve got a small bit of poo that needs clearing.”
It often helps to explain why it is you can’t sweep it up yourself. Have you strained a tail feather? Are you about to go on a date and don’t have time to wash?
The actual sweep up is easy. Just extend the tail feathers, push down, and walk over the pile dragging the tail along the ground. If the pile is sizable, you may need to do this twice. Also, if you’re the pigeon needing the help, it’s polite to take the lead. That way it looks like he or she is just doing some chasing rather than clearing up your shit.
Here’s Laurence leading Nick in the sweep up:
Again, subtlety is key.
As you can see, the shit is now half the size, and flat. It’s not gone completely, but it’s better than it was.
If you’re the one doing the sweeping, don’t forget to wash. A quick dip or sweep through the nearest puddle should do it.
See? Not that hard, and if we all start doing it, it will make for much cleaner and more hygienic sitting spaces.
Like this:
The Pigeons Who Give Pigeons A Bad Name
Spotted this lot earlier today.
It’s these kind of pigeons that give the rest of us a bad name:
Decent uplights are hard to come by in the West End these days so, if you do happen to sit on one, please leave it as you found it and wipe up after yourself like the rest of us do.
It’s particularly important in the run up to the Pigeon Olympics when visiting pigeons will be flocking from all over the country to London. The least they can expect is a clean place to sit.
Every pigeon in London has the responsibility to present our City in the best light possible, and ledges and lights covered in shit isn’t the way to do it.
If you’d rather not use your tail feathers, and don’t have a napkin handy, go and find one. Or, if you’re still struggling, ask your neighbour to assist. It’s not that hard, and most pigeons will be happy to help.
Talking Pigeon Olympics, I was lucky enough to be asked down to team West End’s Chip Tossing practice. It’s an event that’s likely to attract a lot of attention as the Glaswegian team are supposed to be pretty good. No surprises there then. Report to follow.
Like this:
A Totally Ludicrous Use Of Spikes
Check this out. A simple sign outside Euston Station telling people where to park their bikes. Presuming, contrary to the arrow, it’s not suggesting bikes should be parked on top of it, I’m guessing the ludicrous spikes are there for our benefit.
WTF? As if we’d want to sit on a small blue exposed box with barely enough room for two anyway? Just look at the height of them too. Jesus. One could easily catch an arse feather when passing, and imagine the permanent damage caused should one accidentally land on them on a dark night:
Brings tears to the eyes.
Okay, so we kind of get it when spikes are placed on monuments of historical interest as there are pigeons out there who like nothing better than to defecate for the sake of it, but putting them on small pointless signs like this is clearly ridiculous.
Another one for the Boris list.
Like this:
Happy Bank Holiday
I know most of you will think I do nothing but bang on about the weather, but the weather in London has sucked the big one recently, and still is. Frankly, the sucking deserves every bit of the banging.
This was what we did for kicks the other day at Euston Station of all places. Tossed about with a soggy slab of pitta bread. Best fun we’d had in days. Kid you not.
Soon as we found it, we had it surrounded.
Part of the ‘fun’ is who’s gonna get in there first:
Pause. Hold it. Okay. One, two, three.
Then, out of nowhere, Ronnie cut a sly right, and grabbed it. Genius move.
The only reason I’m bothering to post this is that the right shift is actually quite hard to do. Fair play Ronnie. Here he is doing the celebratory chest stretch:
Fair play, Ronnie.
Fun times.
Like this:
Enough Of The Rain Already, And A Spot Of Shakespeare
If there’s one thing that gets us pigeons, it’s too much rain. Enough to create puddles suitable for washing or drinking, fine, but this? We’re talking rivers running down pavements. The sort any pigeon new to water might actually drown in. Really. For those of you who follow me on Twitter, I’ve just found this. A rather handy detailed link on how to build an Ark. If any of you fancy giving it a go, let me know. I’d love to be one of the two pigeons. I would suggest Mart as the other one but it would depend on how long we’d be on the Ark for. Several months of eye-spy on an Ark with Mart would be enough to send any pigeon totally mental.
He started again this morning. There we are sitting on our ledge in the pissing rain, thankfully undercover, and he goes “Eye spy with my little eye something beginning with ‘R’”
Yesterday it was ‘Road’, today it’s ‘Rain’. You get my drift.
Anyway, back to the Ark. If anyone doubts that pigeons might be useful on board such a vessel, this is the advice from the link above on what to do when the rain finally stops:
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Wait for the ark to stop moving about for a period of 40 days. This is a sign that the ark has hit land.
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Open the roof window and send out a raven to reconnoiter for dry land.
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Send out a dove to look for signs of vegetation. If none are found, wait seven days and repeat this step.
- Remove the outer covering entirely and check for dry land. If the land appears dry, wait for the word of God instructing you to leave the ark.
First off, I think 40 days might be a bit excessive. Surely 10 is enough?
Second, I reckon a pigeon would be just as good at spotting land as a raven. Surely? Better, even. What makes ravens more qualified? They don’t even do homing.
Third, and probably the most relevant, a dove is little more than a white pigeon. Enough said.
Fourth, if the Ark has been traveling for several months, and then we have to wait another 40 days till we come out, let’s not wait for God to give us the green light. We could be there a very long time. Supposing he’s busy with other shit?
All that said, I’d still rather be one of the pigeons on board. Make the other one a dove if you have to. Thinking about it. Could be fun…
As for the seriousness of the matter, it’s serious alright. Check this out if you don’t believe me. The BBC weather man says it’s probably going to rain forever, or at least for the foreseeable. Jesus.
Moving on from the weather before I bore myself, I wanted to share this. Went looking for Doug on Monday. Remember Doug? My thespian pigeon pal who loves nothing better than a bit of Shakespeare? I knew he’d be out there somewhere on the Bard’s birthday giving his all, and he was.
He found a prime spot too. The base of Eros on Piccadilly Circus.
Here he is performing a classic from Macbeth – Act 5, Scene 5, apparently:
“To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.”
I did suggest something a little more cheery might be in order, considering the weather. He ignored me, and did all over again. Far as I know, he did it for 8 hours straight. Any pigeon performing a speech from Shakespeare for 8 hours solid had got to be a record, surely?
Good work, Doug. The Bard would be proud.
Like this:
Accomodation for Pigeons Visiting London This Summer
I keep getting asked about places to stay for any pigeons visiting London this year for the Pigeon Olympics.
This is Pascal:
Pascal flew across from Normandy yesterday and did what all pigeons do as soon as they arrive from the continent. He headed straight for the nearest Bureau de Change.
For some reason any pigeons from across the channel seem to think that anywhere displaying the Euro is the place to go for information. Well, let me tell you, it’s not. If you want to know about places to stay in London, ask a local.
There’s such a wide variety of ledges available it’s often hard to choose the right one for you. Sheltered? Not sheltered? Do you share, or are you looking for something a little more private?
Back in 2007 I wrote a collection of posts called ‘Brian Pigeon’s Guide to London – London’s Best Ledges’ in order to help pigeons like Pascal find just the right ledge for them.
As 2007 is quite a long time ago now I’m going to be adding some more recent additions to the collection, particularly as some of the ledges I mentioned probably don’t exist anymore. Also, with the number of pigeons visiting London this summer likely to be a lot higher than in recent years, I’ll try to be more specific about their locations. These original posts were more about the general types of ledges around, for example:
1. The Underground Ledge. That’s a ledge near an Underground station. Click here to read more.
2. The River Ledge. That’s a ledge overlooking the Thames. Click here to read more.
3. The Antiquity Ledge. Please note that the particular statue mentioned in this post isn’t actually there anymore, but there are lots more to choose from in and around London. Click here to read more.
Click here if you want to see some more ledge examples.
I’ll be out and about finding some new ones just as soon as it stops pissing down. In the meantime, if any of you spot a great ledge that you think might be worth mentioning, let me know.
Cheers.
Like this:
Easter On Great Titchfield Street And A Pigeon Olympics 2012 Update
Seeing as flying anywhere at the moment is out of the question due to the stormy conditions – big scary black clouds that look like they might fall out of the sky any minute – I thought I’d tell you all about my Easter. I’ve never been a big fan of Easter seeing as chocolate makes me want to heave. I’ve normally given it a wide berth and stayed firmly ledge bound. This year though, Mart persuaded me to venture off.
“It might be fun?” he said. “You never know, we may get to meet the Easter Bunny…” He was genuinely excited.
I didn’t have the heart to tell him the whole rabbit delivering chocolate eggs thing is clearly a load of old bollocks. He doesn’t even have a sleigh for fuck’s sake. How’s he meant to get all those eggs out? By hand? Loads of them stuffed into the pockets of his little rabbit jacket? I don’t think so. Anyway, I decided to stop being a miserable twat and go join Mart and, you know what? He wasn’t wrong. Turned out to be a right laugh, mainly at his expense…
We hit Great Titchfield Street around midday when the sun was shining, and bumped straight into Elliot. Not seen Elliot in years. Elliot lives near Spitalfields and is one of the few pigeons I know who likes poetry.
This is Elliot enjoying a spot of solo croissant tossing:
I’m actually considering suggesting this as a potential event for the Pigeon Olympics 2012.
Then he asks if anyone else wanted to join in? Kick a few crumbs about. Genius.
All went well at first. A nice pass to Eric.
Then Gerald comes in for a tackle. :
That’s Gerald on the right moving in.
He makes contact:
And he’s quick, but not quick enough.
Eric spots a pass to Mart. “Mart! To you!”:
Mart, of course, is walking in totally the opposite direction. “Where?”
“Mart, mate. Over to you!!” Eric shouts again.
“Great! Where is it?”:
Jesus.
Then all of us go at the same time, “Mart. It’s behind you!!” It was like some fucking pantomime.
Still no clue. Walks straight past it:
By this point we’re all pissing ourselves too much to carry on.
I tell you what, if this does become an event in the Pigeon Olympics, I suspect Mart won’t be taking part.
Talking Pigeon Olympics, it’s all hotting up. Everyone’s getting very excited. The final event list is being put together and I’ve managed to bag an exclusive on the coverage. Thankfully this means I won’t be organizing any of if, just writing about it. I’m also hoping to release video footage of some of the key moments, providing I can get the beak around iMovie… Toes crossed. All very exciting. One thing is confirmed and that’s the opening ceremony. We’re probably talking Trafalgar Square, mid to late June-ish. There’ll be music, seed, beer puddles and everything. I’ve suggested we could tie it in with Pigeon Appreciation Day on June 13th. Probably makes sense?
Any final ideas for events, let me know and I’ll pass them on.
Cheers.
Like this:
Fat Eddie and the Pasty Dance
Check this out for a bit of urban eating action. The Marylebone Station Cornish Pasty free-for-all. Fat Eddie hangs out there all the time.
“Mostly it’s just bits of pastry,” he said, “but sometimes you’re talking mince, cheese, warm veg. Once I got the whole lot. Bloody marvelous.”
Then he showed me how it’s done.
“See, all I do is slip in under here… Like this…”
Nicely done Eddie.
“Result!” He said, coming out with a slice of carrot topped with runny cheese.
But then he showed me how he celebrates. Oh dear. It’s called ‘The Pasty Dance’.
This is it. The Pasty Dance:
Jesus.
He wanted me to join in. Needless to say I politely declined.
Like this:
Brian Pigeon Is UK’s Number 1 Pet Blogger!
Couple of really good things happened today. First off, I spent the morning hanging out with Daring Dave at Richmond Station. Remember him?
Here he is preparing for his ‘Spike Drop’. This is the one where he lowers himself onto the spikes:
Impressive stuff. Sadly I missed the actual lowering due to the length of time he had to prepare.
The second thing was I found out I’d been voted number 1 in the UK’s Top 50 Pet Bloggers. Kid you not.
Nice one. Cheers!
Like this:
A Pigeon That Still Looks Like…
Got this from the Pigeon Blog archives. Posted it back in 2008 when he was going for Mayor last time. Looking a bit older and fatter these days but just as mad, and I’m still convinced his hair is a wig.
Check this link for more Pigeons That Look Like!
Like this:
Calling All Davids – The Aftermath
Finally managed to recover from a serious night out with The Davids. I never knew Davids partied so hard. Jesus. One thing led to another and, before I knew it, the fact everyone was called David was absolutely hilarious. All of them shouting, “Dave. Oi. Dave.” Pissed ourselves for hours. I’m sure anyone else knocking about who wasn’t called Dave would have found the whole event quite annoying.
This is the best I can do as photographic evidence. David (from Peckham?), absolutely off his nut. Said he’d been saving himself for the Calling All Davids party ever since he heard about it on St David’s Day last year:
Tragic, but fair play.
I’m seriously thinking of changing my name to David. Clearly the way to go. Bring on the Davids.
Anyone wondering what Daring Dave was doing, wonder no more. Apparently he was clinging to the underside of a pod on the Millennium Wheel all night. Mental.
