Tuesday, on the way to work, at the corner of Bank and Cooper, I spotted pigeons having sex. Naturally I stopped and photographed them.
I have since learned a few things about pigeons, and I know you’d want me to share my new-found knowledge with you.
Pigeons are pretty much monogamous. They occasionally stray, but probably by accident because they don’t have very good memories.
Pigeons can live up to eighteen years, but urban pigeons are lucky to get five years out of life.
Pigeon sex peaks in February.
In 1150, the Sultan of Baghdad started a pigeon postal service which operated until 1258.
During World War II at least 32 pigeons received the Dickin Medal for brave service.
All of this pigeon trivia got me thinking about pigeons I have known over the years.
When I was a kid I did some volunteer work for the Waffle Party. Anybody remember the Waffle? It was the left-wing of the NDP, and it splintered off and formed its own political party with a nationalist-socialist slant. They ran a few candidates in the 1974 federal election, including Bela Egyed in Ottawa Centre. Campaign headquarters was at the south-east corner of Somerset and Bronson, in what is now a Chinese restaurant.
Still young and naive and idealistic, I asked John Sharkey, one of the campaign organizers, “What’s the first thing we’ll do if we win the election?”
“Demand a recount,” he said.
(We ended up with 877 votes, by the way. No danger there.)
You know there has to be a pigeon in this story, right? I’m getting to him now. While I was out leafletting the neighbourhood, I found an injured pigeon. I picked him up and brought him back to campaign headquarters. Everybody recoiled like he had the bubonic plague or something. They said if I HAD to try to nurse him back to health, I must keep him in a box in the dark scary basement where nobody ever went. So I did. A few days later, he and his box mysteriously vanished. Someone hinted that Bela – the candidate – had killed him. Bastard.
(I wasn’t quite so young and naive and idealistic after that.)
You’ve got lots of interesting stories.
pigeon-killer! i demand public flogging!
God, I haven’t thought about the Waffle for years. I remember going to meetings with Mom when we were about 14 or 15. I remember the “Don’t Dare” campaign which boycotted Dare for using scab labour. I remember marching for Morgentaler before it was acceptable. I remember having to eat no name Mac Cheese because we were boycotting Kraft (See Dare above). It was pretty interesting at the time. Funny how Mom’s Waffle days were at the same time that she was sewing us crimpolene clothes. I guess she had to get some balance in her life
Speaking from your vast pigeon knowledge Zoom, do you think it was sitting on that suggestive sign that got those pigeons all worked up like that? Just because they don’t have very good memories doesn’t mean they aren’t susceptible to the power of advertising. By the way, I’d have to say poor memory is one of the best excuses I’ve ever heard for infidelity. “But honey! I forgot!”