As a lifelong urbanite I have never cared much for pigeons. They’re annoying and there are just too many of them. But an unfolding saga in a nearby lakefront park shelter changed my attitude.
During good weather, I jogged by Lake Michigan daily and stopped in the park shelter regularly. So did the area pigeons – who found the roof beams, alcoves and restroom interiors a perfect place to hang out. In fact, you could hardly enter the place without moving pigeons first.
But then last spring the city put some pigeon proofers up; on every possible horizontal area there were now rows and rows of plastic spikes to prevent nesting and perching. Sure enough, the spikes worked and the pigeons left – all except a few who struggled to maintain their territory on any un-spiked surface, looking strangely forlorn.
I think of us humans and how spikes appear out of nowhere to project us – just like the pigeons – into the unknown. Not plastic spikes but those equally painful jolts of job loss, stress, family difficulties, and financial challenges. Some of us take off and adapt quickly; others hang on in solitude. The stages of change – put quite simply are – holding on, letting go and moving on – and it’s our decision on which stage to perch and nest.
I wonder which pigeons will be back this spring.
