Wings on the River: Pigeon eyes are fiery orange

I had never cared about pigeons terribly much.

So I started s-n-e-a-k-i-n-g toward the pigeons v-e-r-y slowly. They ignored me. I would like to call that a tribute to my stalking skills, but I knew that they knew I was there. Since their eyes are on the sides of their head, when they aim away from you, they’re really looking straight at you. The sideways eye means they can see in almost every direction except a tiny spot right behind their head — great for sensing predatory movement at any angle; the trade-off is a narrower field of binocular vision.

I wasn’t bored. Their eyes were fiery orange!

The had green-and-pink iridescent necks, probably used in territorial or mating displays, a sheen of color in their gray stone-colored camouflage. Their beaks are long, narrow and delicate, great for plucking small items like seeds selectively or out of tiny areas, absolutely not good for cracking hard objects or holding onto fish or tearing up anything: generalists, heavy seed-eaters.

Pigeon tails are long and wide, meaning more maneuverability. Their medium-heavy bodies are borne on long, wide wings that can get pointy or rounded depending how wide they opened them while fluttering among the stones. Pigeons are great at changing speeds midair, and while I’ve never seen pigeons soar or coast, I bet they could do that, in a pinch. Handy for a plump, tasty little prey species in a complex environment.

Those pigeons picked a perfect place to warm up: a south-facing slope of dark basalt chunks, sheltered from the wind. Cozy! As a human recovering a nasty little cold, I appreciated their choice!

When they finally decided I was too close, they all exploded into the sky together and swooped in a simultaneous swarm like starlings. They can leap straight into the air, with crackling flaps — that sound, I learned, is the pigeon’s wingtips knocking together above its head as it roars into the air. They must have a strong flock bond; I never saw one alone. Instead, they settled on a nice comfy wooden fence together, with 80 eyes to watch for predators — or silly humans who think they’re being sneaky.

So I didn’t write about ducks, or the gull, a beautiful dead glaucous-winged adult with a broken leg.

And I’m never underestimating those tiny, dull, brown city pigeons again!