The time has come to set the record straight about one of the most misunderstood and under-appreciated neighbors. Burdened with the unfair and unflattering sobriquet, “Rats with Wings”, it is hardly surprising that few feel motivated to learn more about this unsung hero, the much-maligned domestic pigeon.

In truth, I have not been toiling long under the mantle of Protector of Pigeons. As recently as last week, I was perfectly content to remain totally ignorant of everything-pigeon. Even the airborne-vermin handle seemed reasonable. So what happened, you might ask, to prompt me to learn the truth about this noble beast?

My interest was piqued when I met a few of them at a local park.

By Gulf Coast standards, it was a bitterly cold afternoon. I had a couple of hours to kill and decided to brave the elements and soak up another glorious coastal sunset. Never leaving the house without a camera, I grabbed my Nikon from the boot and headed into the sliver of public parkland shoehorned in-between the city lights and the sea.

There was a stiff breeze off the gulf and, despite the lovely glow from a sun in full retreat, the park was empty and gave the tiny sanctuary an air of melancholy. And, as I strolled towards the water, I noticed that I wasn’t the only one feeling it. On a small section of wall that borders the path were a dozen or so pensive-looking birds. To be sure, they were probably just cold, as was I, and their sad demeanor only a figment of my own imagination. Even knowing this, I felt oddly compelled to sit for a while with these inscrutable avians.

I was immediately struck by how completely uninterested these stout little fellows seemed to find their new interloper. They made room for me to sit on the wall, showing a quiet courtesy reminiscent of the way a newcomer is welcomed by the other anxious souls in the oncologist’s waiting room.

Another arresting feature of these birds is their stunning plumage. I found it disconcerting to realize that in the sixty years that I have shared the planet with these birds, this was the first time that I had really seen them. The subtle dusting of neon greens and shimmering purples, in perfect harmony with the dappled wings and soft grey breast, evoked a memory of ribbons and medals adorning the breast of high ranking Soviet officer’s dress uniform, glimpsed during a long-forgotten, childhood visit to the British Museum. Piercing, orange eyes that give an impression of attentive intelligence, and crimson feet that would turn Dorothy green with envy, only add to the charm.

No. There was literally nothing about this stunning bird, from the mysterious snowy cere of its bill, down to the pedicured obsidian of its delicate claws, that made me think I was looking at a rat.

I don’t dispute that beauty does indeed exist in the eye of the beholder. So let’s take the pigeons’ good looks out of the equation and look instead at some more objective pigeon facts. We will begin with the basics.

The common domestic pigeon, also known as the rock dove, or feral pigeon, is one of 360 known species belonging to the family Columbidae. They share this family with the doves, with the distinction between pigeons and doves being rather arbitrary. The legendary dodo bird, now extinct, shares a common ancestor with modern Columbidae. The birds in this family are mostly stout and broad-breasted, small-headed, large-winged, and short-necked. They share a strutting, head-bobbing gait, and are strong and skilled fliers. Pigeons lay one or two eggs and the parents, who happen to mate for life and remain obstinately monogamous, share incubation duties. Oddly, the female incubates the eggs at night and the male takes over during daylight. I take this as a compelling confirmation of the strength of the pigeons’ pair bonding (I would have thought the missus would make hubby sit on the eggs at night, so she would know where he was and what he was up to in the dark).

Touchingly, pigeons that lose a mate to predation, accident, or illness, may spend years in apparent mourning before reluctantly looking for a replacement mate.

Large powerful wings help put pigeons among the most graceful of fliers

One rather unappetizing characteristic of this family of birds is the presence of a “milk crop”. This is a pouching of the esophagus in which collects a witches brew of nutrient-rich secretions, sloughed tissue, and digestive enzymes. This “crop milk” is fed to the fledglings (called squabs) during the first two weeks after hatching. Presumably, this diet is intended to get the kids out of the house as quickly as possible. Got crop milk?

By the way, if you are wondering why I am not referring to the birds in the photographs as male or female, it is because pigeons are sexually mono- or dichromatic, meaning the males and females are indistinguishable based on the color of their plumage alone. There are a few subtle differences in the body shape and way in which the sexes move. But my pigeons weren’t doing much moving around and their plumage was so inflated, as insulation against the cold wind, that their underlying shapes were impossible to discern.

Pigeons have truly remarkable navigation abilities. How they pull it off is only vaguely understood, but a pigeon is able to return directly to its nest from distances as great as 1,500 miles. I can reliably find my way home home from about 5 miles away. Much further than that and I will need to pull out the trusty iPhone. These birds can be transported, without their iPhones, hundreds of miles from home, with all sensory cues obscured, and when released, will immediately fly straight home. They can even manage to pull off the same astonishing feat if they are given deliberately misleading cues during the journey.

And, as our pigeon is flying home after 6 hours in a cramped, uncomfortable Delta birdcage (all the aisle and window cages were occupied) he still has to deal with a host of pigeon-peckish predators along the way. His arch enemy is the 200mph-diving peregrine falcon. This raptor is a deadly adversary that plummets, unseen from above and has the power to outrace and outmaneuver the strongest and most agile pigeon. But wait! Our pigeon has a superpower! Some pigeon species have evolved a strange looking puffball of bright white plumage on their rumps. When sensing an impending attack, the pigeon will pull the wings forward to expose this flash of white, which confuses and disorients the attacker, causing it to strike at the new target instead of the victim’s head and neck. True, there will need to be quite a bit of explaining when he gets home with his butt torn to ribbons, but at least his flashy butt gives him a fighting chance of getting home in the first place.

I won’t get into the all the experimental details here, but there are some rather compelling studies, many demonstrating admirable scientific rigor, that reveal pigeons to be aware of the passage of time and can use this awareness to inform their navigational calculations. Put another way, these birds are pretty clever.

Strutting his, or her, stuff on a sunnier and warmer afternoon

Still not convinced? Are good looks, alien navigation abilities, lifelong fidelity, and cool flying chops still not enough to stir doubt about the “rat with wings” moniker? Fair enough. The crop milk didn’t win me over either. But read on. The best is yet to come.

While you grab another Bud Light to fortify you through the thrilling conclusion of this post, I am going to have a quick word with any photographers who have made it this far…

A word to photographers

The photographs in this post were taken a couple of days apart, in the same location, but under significantly different conditions. The first visit, when most of the photographs shown here were taken, was during sunset on a clear, cold day. There was not much light, but what there was was a lovely golden glow. I usually carry my 70-200mm, f/2.8 in the bag for unexpected wildlife opportunities. On a planned bird shoot I will always pack a much longer lens (500-600mm). But on this day I had traveled light and had only my 24-70mm, f/2.8. The images in this article were shot using a Nikon D850 with the Nikon 24-70mm, f/2.8, wide open at 2.8. Even with the birds being cooperative, it was a challenge to get close enough to shoot below 70mm. I kept the ISO very low, between Lo-0.3 and 64, and was able to keep the shutter speed up around 1/200sec. I briefly increased the shutter speed and ISO to capture the in-flight pictures.

The second day was much brighter and warmer and birds were very active. The park was jammed with people and dogs, probably many of them pigeon-haters, to keep the pigeons on their toes (on their pigeon-toes?). I used the D850 with the 70-200mm that I had remembered this time, and stopped down the lens a little. I was able to keep the shutter speed high, even with a Lo-0.3 ISO. The pictures from the second day were disappointingly flat and I left the white balance set to Auto2 in an attempt to preserve the warmer tones.

Ah… you made it back, and with several bottles of brew!

According to Syrian cave paintings dating back to 4,000 BCE, the humble pigeon appears to have been one of the first animals, if not the very first, to be domesticated by humans. Through the ages, it has remained an important part of the diet in many cultures. Indeed, it was primarily the massive over-harvesting of the American passenger pigeon, in response to widespread hunger and poverty during the 19th century, that saw the extinction of that once dominant species in 1914. We still eat young pigeons and doves, called squabs, which are considered a delicacy in many cultures.

But our relationship with the pigeon hasn’t consisted solely of bringing the birds home to dinner, and then eating them. On the contrary, for centuries, pigeons and doves have figured prominently in religious symbolism, been the obsessive focus of breeders, and played vital roles in countless military conflicts. Yes, you read that correctly. The common-as-dirt rock pigeon has saved many a soldier’s life, with a special few earning high military honors in the process.

Doves figured prominently in the mythology of ancient Mesopotamia, appearing often as elements in recovered artifacts from as early as the 13th century BCE. Later, in ancient Greek culture, the dove took on profound significance as a familiar and messenger for the goddess Aphrodite.

The Hebrew Bible is replete with dove related imagery, Noah’s olive branch-bearing dove being one of the bird’s earliest appearances in the Book of Genesis. The Bible goes so far as to specify that pigeons and doves could be considered acceptable to use as burnt offerings, specifying that this only applied to those financially strapped supplicants who found themselves unable to spring for a nice goat. According to Luke’s bible, when Jesus was circumcised, his parents sacrificed a number of doves. One has to wonder if they would’ve set fire to a lamb, or something even nicer, if their boy had been spared the indignity and pain of such a mutilation.

Islam also has a soft spot for all pigeons and doves, believing that two doves played a crucial role in preventing the discovery and capture of Muhammad during the Hegira. I believe certain spiders also fall into this category of revered and protected creatures, for their part in the same adventure.

A beautiful brown pigeon, the only one of this color in a flock of hundreds

A number of cultures have bred and collected pigeons, both as status symbols and for the pure enjoyment of the pastime. Pigeon fanciers, as they are called in the UK, are passionate about their hobby. Many a wealthy aristocrat would keep a pigeon coop on their grounds, or up on the rooftops of their city residences. Factory workers and shop keepers rubbed shoulders with elites, when it came to showing off their pigeons. Two of history’s most obsessive pigeon fanciers were Charles Darwin and Nikola Tesla.

Tesla’s story is particularly poignant. Between 1922 and his death, the legendary engineer and inventor, the architect of the Westinghouse empire, fell on hard times and spent his final years in a series of progressively shabbier New York hotels. He spent these years mostly alone, but for the company of feral New York pigeons. He would feed his feathered friends on the grounds of a cathedral, a short walk from the same New Yorker Hotel in which he would eventually take his last breath. One of his writings from this period offers the reader a rare glimpse of the old man’s passion:

The birds were, and still are, bred for certain prize characteristics, like feathered feet, unusual plumage, and even for their aerobatic prowess. But, above all else, the birds are bred and valued for their uncanny homing abilities. Homing pigeons have been keeping humans connected since records have been kept. When the Prussians laid siege to Paris in 1870, it was the lowly rock pigeon that carried messages between besieged Parisians and their families, friends and lovers throughout France.

Two decades earlier, it was the carrier pigeon that helped launch the career of a young German journalist and publisher, Israel Josaphat (who, after moving to England, converted to Christianity, changing his name to Paul Julius Reuter). Europe lacked telegraphy in 1850, but Reuter, recognizing the importance of communicating stock prices between Paris and Berlin (and hence to the rest of the globe), conscripted a small army of pigeons to shuttle financial data back and forth between the two capitals. The prestigious Reuters News Agency, a dominant global news service for more that a century, owes much to those “rats with wings”.

This napping bird has somehow managed to get a rubber band stuck on her foot

Of all the ways in which this astonishing animal has contributed to the human experience, none can be more humbling than its acts of derring-do in times of war. Many armed forces, including the United States and Great Britain, relied on the common pigeon throughout both World Wars. Some 30 pigeons have been awarded the Royal Air Force Dickin Medal for their bravery and war service. Commando, GI Joe, Winkie, Tyke, and Royal Blue are but a few of the distinguished pigeons that have been decorated for their roles in finding and rescuing British soldiers and airmen in wartime.

Deserving a special mention is Cher Ami, arguably, the most famous pigeon of all time. This bird was awarded the French Croix de Guerre, the Cross of War, for saving 194 American infantrymen at the Verdun during World War I. These men comprised a battalion of the 77th Infantry Division that had became separated from the main force during the Battle of Argonne. The men were facing certain death at the hands of the far larger enemy force, by which they were completely surrounded. One member of the battalion, Cher Ami, had been horribly injured in the fighting. The little pigeon had been shot in the chest and had also lost one of her legs. Despite these ultimately fatal wounds, Cher Ami flew 25 miles through enemy fire, to deliver the battalion’s coordinates to the Allied Forces. Armed with this information, a rescue mission was launched. Almost 200 US soldiers survived that day, thanks to the incomprehensible grit and determination of one mortally wounded pigeon.

The proud domestic pigeon - is that a knowing smile?

Just maybe, the next time we find a little splatter of pigeon droppings on our shiny new automobile, we can make allowances for birds doing what birds do, and instead of cursing the “rat with wings” for the mess, we could whisper a word of gratitude to the memory of Cher Ami.

After all, can we ever really know that the day will never come when the only thing standing between us and oblivion will be a pigeon?

Thanks for dropping by!

If you enjoyed this article, please share it with your friends. If you didn’t, please let me know. And if you have a question, don’t hesitate to leave it in the comments box below.

See you next time. Now, get out there and photograph something!

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Flying Rats? The Truth About Pigeons

A word to photographers

Allan Walls Photography, LLC

205-515-3494

Fairhope, Alabama

contact@allanwallsphotography.com