Columba livia.
3 January 2026 20:31Loosely defined! Post about your pets, pets from your canon, anything you want!
I've never kept pigeons, but I can say I've cultivated them.
I live in New York City, and it's pigeons wherever you go. You can't avoid them, and it's disappointing most people don't take the time to look at them, pay attention to them, get to know them. They're remarkably congenial, to the point of being accurately called friend-shaped. Which in no small part comes from them mostly being feral domesticated animals, originally kept by people for a variety of reasons from food to companionship who then got let out into the urban wild when people decided they didn't want to take care of them anymore. But it's easy for pigeons to remember what people are there for, when people stop to take the time. If you've ever had your pupils dilated at the optometrist's, I highly recommend finding a pigeon in some sunlight and taking in the genuinely dazzling iridescence of their feathers.
During the worst of 2020, when there were a lot fewer people around the neighborhood, pigeons would often come to my window, mostly to hang out on the AC unit. A nice place to stop for a while. Not thinking much of it, I started leaving seeds out for them, and they learned soon enough it was more than just a place to stop. I liked seeing them, and they liked the seeds, so I'd keep replenishing the tray outside. There were a few months in there - not many, but a few - that I'd get a seven AM wake-up call from the local birds who wanted to be fed, and those birds were the best alarm clock I've ever had. Certainly the sweetest. With few reasons to get out of bed in the morning, it was a nice feeling that one of those reasons was for small animals who were happy to see me.
I'd also take bike rides to get out of my apartment in the afternoons to get some fresh air, and there's a nearby park corner where it didn't take too many days of bringing seeds for a flock of pigeons to recognize me and fly on over whenever I'd come by. But even before they recognized me on sight, they were quick to trust to eat out of my open hands. Very soft feathers, and very warm bodies under the feathers. Some people gave me grief about it. Some people gave me shit about it. A few people, mostly under the age of ten, were delighted and thrilled to get some birdseed of their own and give feeding the pigeons a try themselves. Even if those kids hadn't ever come by, I'd have kept up with it as long as I was doing the rides. I'd seen worse behavior from them, and I didn't need to explain myself. The pigeons didn't rely or depend on me. They weren't my responsibility. They were simply my genuine pleasure.
The world reopened, people moved back into the neighborhood, the tray stopped getting stocked with seeds, I started going to a nearby gym, and my phone serves as my alarm clock. But I still sometimes carry birdseed around, in case there's a chance for another moment with the birds.









