Since I live in the West End and lost my job in mid-March, I’ve come to appreciate the sounds of the apartment in a way that I always used to be too preoccupied to notice.
There’s the construction along Haro, that used to be a faint chorus of banging, buzzing, clanging, and other construction sounds that generally form an important part of the ambience of the city’s weekdays. A few months ago it was quiet enough that I would barely notice it, but as the work moved along the street, and closer to me, it’s quite efficiently replaced my alarm clock, and allowed me the opportunity to do things like run the seawall before it gets busy with my neighbours doing the same thing. Now the work is moving further on, and only time will tell if the merits of waking up pre-7AM will go with it.
I live right next to some big trees. I’m not sure what kind, but they lose their leaves in the winter and they take quite a bit of my privacy along with them. But they’re home to lots of different birds. Little ones, whose names I don’t know, crows, and pigeons. It’s also home to old clothing that has been discarded by either the folks higher up in my building or the one next door. I hear a mix of cooing and chirping throughout the day, but it’s most peaceful in the morning. You can pair it with coffee and avocado toast.
Two of the pigeons that spend a lot of time hanging out in the trees also made a nest on my patio. The eggs hatched a little over three weeks ago, and the nestlings have gone from tiny little yellow stress balls (in appearance only) to quite respectable juvenile pigeons. City pigeons are descendants of rock pigeons, and you can see this in the light grey birds with the two black stripes across their wings. Overtime, they’ve interacted with “escaped” domesticated pigeons, and this is why pigeons can have such different plumages today.
These birds, part-wild, part-escaped pets (bred for different reasons but no longer in captivity), have carved out their own space in cities all over the world, adjacent to, but separate from our own.
The nestlings make a little squeaking noise, one that’s very un-pigeon-like, when they know they’re about to be fed. It’s very sweet, but I can see why some would find it irritating.
In terms of gender-parity in child rearing, pigeons appear to be somewhat ahead of us people. When incubating, though the mother generally spends more time on the eggs, the father shares the responsibility. Watching them switch out is a very cool experience. I believe, and this is based on what I’ve read about wood pigeons (columba palumbus) which are a different subspecies, that the hen pigeon will warm the clutch for roughly twice as long as the cock. There are periods when neither is incubating though. When feeding, both produce “milk” which is made up of regurgitated plant and insect and held in a spot in the neck called the crop. Both parents seem to share the feeding equally.
Anyway, as you now know, I’m a bit of a pigeon-landlord these days, and have taken the responsibility seriously. They are not very happy with me though, and when I put out water for them they shat all over the bowl.