Wednesday, 22 December 2010

Where do all the pigeons go?

I've always lived in fairly urban surroundings, and one of the things that always goes hand in hand with this is a plethora of winged rat. The humble pigeon.


If you live in, or near, any major city you'll know that there are thousands of pigeons inhabiting train stations, monuments, and kebab shops. This is something that you just accept, but as usual my inquisitive nature and vivid imagination has lead me to wonder a few things.....

1. Where do pigeons live?

You see a lot of them knocking about during the day, but at night they're few and far between. I can only assume they all live on the quieter roof tops of your chosen city. This leads to my second question...

2. Why aren't there more dead pigeons?

Seriously, where are they all? This point was really the point of this post. Given the vast number that inhabit any given city surely you'd expect to see a few more corpses. Aside from the odd pulpy road kill, you don't really see any. I can't believe that any councils pest control service is efficient enough to clear up the potentially huge number of corpses that a pigeon population represents. I mean my council struggles to collect my rubbish, which unlike a pigeon corpse, is in the exact same place every fortnight.

I know what you're thinking, maybe there just aren't that many pigeons, well I'd like to dispel that. Being a bit of a geek I've done some rudimentary research (thanks google)-

The pigeon population of Britain is 2.7 million. If we assume that they die at the same rate as us (bear with me) that would mean 27,000 of these pigeons would die every year, that's 74 per day.

Now given that pigeons don't have medication, or hospitals (i've never seen one) we can expect that figure to be a bit higher. Where are all of these dead birds?

Now onto my usual crazy theory part of the thread-

The answer obviously has to be, the pigeons graveyard. Much like the fabled elephants graveyard this is more than likely a mystical, abandoned rooftop. When a pigeons eyes go misty, and memories of fighting over scraps with other vermin flood the mind, the pigeon follows an instinctive coo to this mythical, lofty, rooftop. Probably caked in the shit of million pigeons before it, it hobbles about on gammy legs and finally carks it.

So now all we need to do is discover this location and the mystery is solved. On a completely separate point, there is always a lot of crispy duck knocking around china town....







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