In Praise of the Lowly Pigeon

Yes, Yes, Yes, I know!
Before you’ll pause to read about your foe
and see, what it is I have to say,
you’ll likely turn yourself away
and in disgust,
think it really isn’t fair
that I should crow and compliment
the so called ‘rat pack of the air’.
But this much maligned band of birds
that brings into the world our choicest words,
though not quite as elegant as an eagle,
nor as colourful as a cardinal,
and never considered fine enough to be
a provincial celebrity like a black-capped chickadee,
has much to recommend it.
Pigeons are the very definition of persistence,
whose existence is a tribute to subsistence.
They are not the ones to lay about a cage,
growing slowly frail from water, care, and age.
They go out and find their food,
gather sticks and watch their brood.
And like us, they are a social bird.
From beak to beak they spread the word,
Let’s gather, roost, and procreate
while condo boards deliberate.
And by their own proclivity,
spur on our creativity.
Who would have thought of fences, owls, or even have a trap?
I’m sure for this there’s got to be an app!
They are loyal to family and to place,
our balconies are now their living space,
and with all the obstacles placed in their path,
they’re smart enough to avoid our wrath.
They move us to much needed exercise,
rushing up from our chairs even helps reduce our size.
And what is more,
they have replaced the weather in our conversation,
being both our vexation and frustration.
They give us something about which to vent
in this our year of discontent.
What else would draw our ire and set us all afire
in our present circumstance,
but our partners in this timeless dance?
So let us honour the bird
with an idea that at first may seem absurd,
and not view it as a pest that tries to mate,
nor as a plague we try to eradicate,
but as a solution for those going hungry in our estate.
Above our heads, we have got,
a rooftop industry to grace our parking lot.
This could be a plan both discernable and highly earnable,
for they could be sold at our market farm
and possess a certain, je ne sais pas, dare I say charm?
For the French now call them squabs,
and at the price, will surely create jobs.
They will lend their wings to our recovery,
in an enterprise of discovery.
And, it could be argued, we are truly blessed,
by birds who chose us to house their nest.
So, as they say my friends, when life gives you lemons,
well, you know the rest.

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