Six Things, Volume 24
Pigeons | Nightjar | Eagle | Lindy Hop | Deep sea | UK map
Thing 1 – Pigeons
It’s easy to hate pigeons. For many people, it’s almost the default. Especially feral pigeons, so memorably (and unfairly) described by Woody Allen as ‘rats with wings’.
I understand. I really do. But then again, I don’t.
The ubiquity of feral pigeons in city centres does them no favours. But it would be the same with any species: one golden eagle soaring over a highland peak on majestic outstretched wing is a glorious sight of nature (see below); thirty of them in your garden, crapping on your petunias, not so much.
Names are important, too. Change ‘feral pigeon’ to ‘rock dove’ and you might have an image of a rather different bird – one that favours remote cliffs, keeps itself to itself and always does the washing up before being asked to. We view doves in general more favourably than pigeons – we don’t talk about ‘the pigeon of peace’, after all.
And you wouldn’t get far launching a hygiene brand with a reputation (you very much hope) of gentle benevolence and softness if you called it ‘Pigeon’.
“Pigeon – the home of real beauty” doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.
The connotation is clear:
Pigeon – dirty, pesty, gathering under a railway bridge near you with the sole purpose of crapping on your head.
Dove – peace, love, gentle cooing from the top of a dovecote (the word ‘pigeoncote’ never caught on)
In the 5,000 years since we started domesticating the species Columba livia domestica, we’ve tinkered with their genes to the extent that there are at least 1,000 different breeds within that single species. And as a result, the genetic relationship between the urban feral pigeon and the wild rock dove is, as you might expect, something of a mess – a situation explored here by Will Smith.
Charles Darwin was a big fan, breeding several varieties at his home in Kent, and writing about them in both On the Origin of Species and The Variation of Animals and Plants Under Domestication. He had a particular love of the exploits of tumbler pigeons, recording these comments by a pigeon breeder named Brent:
“Some fly round with the flock, throwing a clean summersault every few yards, till they are obliged to settle from giddiness and exhaustion. These are called Air Tumblers, and they commonly throw from twenty to thirty summersaults in a minute, each clear and clean. I have one red cock that I have on two or three occasions timed by my watch, and counted forty summersaults in the minute. Others tumble differently. At first they throw a single summersault, then it is double, till it becomes a continuous roll, which puts an end to flying, for if they fly a few yards over they go, and roll till they reach the ground.”
And it’s the flight of the ubiquitous feral pigeon that was the gateway to my admiration for them. They are strong, capable flyers, and particularly arresting when taking off or coming in to land.
Shelve prejudice, why not, and watch this.
And if you need more of that kind of thing, here’s… well, more – this time focusing on the wing clap.
My thanks to Rose George for posting this excellent story about a pigeon named Tyke, which includes this film.
And if you’re still to be convinced of the cute potential of pigeons, here are a couple playing a game of ping pong.
Finally, lest we start to take all this avian talk too seriously, just remember: birds aren’t real.
Thing 2 – Nightjar
Just over a year ago I made a sort of pilgrimage to hear one of the more uncanny sounds in nature.
Here it is.
It’s the churring of a nightjar. I wrote about this encounter in The Guardian shortly afterwards.
“Each encounter is familiar but different. Not so much deja vu as nightjar vu.”
What I didn’t have space to include in that article was that my companion on that trip was my wife’s cousin Hazel; that she had recently lost her mother; that many years ago when she was five years old her father had taken her to see nightjars on the heath near where they lived and they didn’t see or hear them but she remembered it as one of those things you remember from childhood; that she had messaged me to say she had an urge to put that right and would I like to go with her; that of course I’d said yes because you do not pass up a chance to encounter a nightjar and also Hazel is great fun and I knew she’d make a perfect nightjarring companion; that you always forget when you go looking for nightjars how late they leave it to announce their presence so you experience that feeling of disappointment after which their arrival is that much more satisfying; that when the nightjar flew close – so close – over our heads there was an extraordinary silence, in my case of simple awe at the vicinity of this wild wild thing, but I suspect in Hazel’s case of something more personal; that while it is of course about the birds it’s often about the people too.
So now I’ve done that. Thanks, Hazel.
Thing 3 – Eagle
Eagles are magnificent birds. Huge, raw, craggy. An eagle in flight is one of the majestic sights of nature (see above).
But perhaps, please, not too close. There’s such a thing, after all, as personal space.
Thing 4 – Lindy Hop
I see that, almost by accident, the first three of this week’s six things are to do with birds. Which is all very well if you like birds (spoiler: I do) but perhaps leaves the rest of you thirsting for variety.
Here it is, in the form of a Lindy Hop sequence from the 1941 film Hellzapoppin’ (a film, to my intense shame, I have never seen in full, despite my mother mentioning it at roughly three month intervals throughout my childhood – perhaps this weekend is the time).
For those of us who can barely walk across a room without spraining a fetlock, it’s quite the watch.
I first saw this on twitter (of course I did) and it was accompanied by this short history of the Lindy Hop.
And if you’re inspired by that to learn how to do the Lindy Hop, here’s a chatty chap to tell you how.
Thing 5 – Deep sea
The news this week led to a resurgence of interest in this.
It’s all amazing, of course, and beautifully presented, but for me the biggest ‘wait what no surely not?’ moment came at 2388 metres down.
Elephant seal, what are you doing, you idiot?
Thing 6 – UK map
Alasdair Rae, mapper extraordinaire, decided to make a map that would “split the population of the UK into four roughly equal parts using a big grid and then designate capital cities that nobody would have a problem with”.
The original thread is here, and if you want to explore it further you can do so here.
I remember going up to the heath (Holt Heath, Dorset) to see nightjars with my Dad when I was young. Though we didn't really see them, we heard them. And they really are quite late risers.
Many years later, living in Sheboygan, Wisconsin, I looked out my office window on the first floor and saw a bald eagle fly down the street at eye level. Really quite something!
I'm not a proper twitcher, I don't know much about birds, but I love them anyway.
Aw I need to send this to my Mum. She has pigeon friends in her garden. They bring her great joy. They once pushed me out of the garden when I was trying to sunbathe. Clearly it's their domain :')