In the shadow of London’s National Gallery and the church of
St. Martin-in-the-Fields lies Trafalgar Square, with bronze lions the size of
our car. Now, moreover, they can be seen as intended; until a few years ago
they were famously covered in pigeon poop.
My college in Missouri had this problem when I went to
school there; we students loved feeding the pigeons, but they had a tendency to
exert the prerogative of flying animals. The college responded, as I recall, by
setting out poisoned feed, killing not only the pigeons but, presumably, every
other animal that ate the feed, and every animal that ate those animals. I
don’t know what kind of poison they used, but I hope it was something that breaks
down quickly in the soil once all those animals died.
Londoners had a wiser solution, one that cut down on the
pigeons and kept the remaining ones fit: hawks. When I passed by an excited
crowd were gathered around a Mr. and Mrs. Hawk, who seemed to regard the human herd
with nonchalance.
1 comment:
I was caught off guard twice while reading your column this morning. The first when you said, "...(the pigeons) had a tendency to exert the perogative of flying animals." My office neighbor jumped when I suddenly burst into laughter at what you were really saying. The second, when you wrote, "(a solution that)...cut down on the pigeons and kept the remaining ones fit: hawks." He jumped again, this time spilling some decaffeinated coffee in the process. Well done!
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