I Hate Pigeons

I hate pigeons.

Despise them. Loathe, detest, and abhor them.

I hate their beady little, red eyes, there stupid little feet with their sharp, pointy nails and their disgusting “coos” as they call for more of their kind to join the party. Yuk!

I didn’t always hate them. In fact, when we were in junior high, my brother was interested in raising pigeons and he had a few at our house. I was curious about them and thought they were kind of neat.

It wasn’t until college that I learned the true character of those winged rats. 

I lived in a large old house divided into 5 apartments – I’m pretty sure every college town has these living spaces. I lived in a studio apartment, number 5, on the top floor. 

There was a steel box air conditioning window unit in my living room/bedroom. It was the kind that you set in the window and pull the sliding accordion sides to fill in the gaps between the window and the smaller air conditioner. Then close the window on top of the air conditioner so it doesn’t fall out and crash to the ground. 

I’m not sure what the “accordion” was made of but it wasn’t anything very thick or sturdy and didn’t do a good job of keeping out noise or cold air. On top of that, duct tape filled in the extra gaps and kept the accordion from slipping back toward the air conditioner. It was ugly and cheap but definitely fit with the decor. 

Not long after I moved into the apartment, I started hearing noises outside my air conditioner. “Cooing”, toenails click-clicking on the steel box and thumping on the accordion.  And MOANING. Very LOUD moaning.

With one pigeon I might have been able to sleep but when 5 or more pigeon friends came to visit, it was almost impossible to get any rest! It sounded like a bunch of insatiable porn stars tap dancing and getting it on outside my window over and over and over again.  To make matters worse, they were at peak activity at 5:00 in the morning.

I was in college.

5:00 a.m. was like the middle of the night!

I am not very good with background noise.  I hate loud music with pounding bass, people talking behind me in a lecture I’m trying to listen to, and the constant questioning by people in my house who seem incapable of finding their own wallets, car keys, favorite sweatshirts, and underwear.

Especially if I’m in the middle of something, trying to concentrate, or trying to sleep, I tend to get impatient and irritable if the annoying noise persists for long, (stay tuned for The Adventures of Lead Foot: The Neighbors Upstairs).

After several weeks of waking up at 5:00 am to the loud moaning, cooing, “tap dancing”, and knocking of numerous wings smacking the window accordion, my home was no longer the tranquil oasis I needed. 

I was so agitated and unsettled. I had to find an answer to fixing this problem! I started constantly talking to my friends about the “effing pigeons” on my air conditioner and how they were driving me CRAZY and what the HELL was I going to do about it?!

I finally decided that I needed to call my landlord, Clarence. He was an older, nice, but grumpy guy who owned several houses like the one I lived in. I figured he would know what to do about the stupid pigeons. 

I explained to Clarence all the suffering I was going through because of the early morning shenanigans and pigeon porn happening outside my window.  And that it all was making me lose my mind. 

I was right, Clarence knew what to do:

“Call the police department and explain to them the problem. They’ll come out and shoot the pigeons off the house”.

Wow! I had no idea! Finally, I was going to have PEACE!

So, I dialed up the non-emergency number of the local Police Department:

Me: Hi. I have a bunch of pigeons living on and around my air conditioner making SO MUCH noise and waking me up at 5 o’clock in the morning and driving me CRAZY. My landlord told me to call the police department and that you guys would come over and shoot them off the house.

Long silence

Police: Um. Ma’am? We don’t do that.

Me: You don’t?

Police: No.

Me: Oh, ok. Thank you.

And there I was, back to square one.

When I think of that story now, I’m so impressed with the amount of self-control that police officer exercised by not laughing hysterically at me. In fact, I would almost bet that there are STILL stories about that “stupid little college twit who called in to have pigeons shot off her house”. 

Thanks, Clarence.

I still hate pigeons. But now, I’m a grown woman and I live in the country. If pigeons ever show up outside my window for tap dancing and pornographic activity, I’m quite capable of shooting them off the house myself.