A Short Squab Story

The chronology of this story I'm about to tell has been jumbled up by the lockdown-induced brain fog. Which did I see first?

The nest behind an air conditioner compressor unit? Or that pigeon parent brooding two chicks?

However, I did belatedly realise that the compressor now sheltering a pigeon nest is one of mine. I discovered the nest last December, and recalled another nest located in the emergency stairwell that had been destroyed weeks before by who I assumed was the cleaning crew.

A nearby fire hose was used, and on the remains of the nest lay two small white eggs. That image still haunts me, and might have kept me from reporting this nest. I'm also a fan of nest cams, so having a real nest nearby to watch would be interesting.

As I followed the chicks' growth, however, my decision to spare the nest and the pigeon family was challenged by how messy and unhygienic it was growing. This was a one-clutch nest, new. But I can't call the cleaners on two defenceless chicks, nor should anyone be forced to do what the may feel is unthinakble.

However, I would need to get the compressor serviced with the air conditioning and this complicated matters. No wonder the cleaning crew resorted to the fire hose.

How long would I have to wait until the chicks fledge?


City shitbird
A little research uncovered more about pigeons than I needed to know, but that's just me being a trivia glutton.

The bird we simply call a "pigeon" - the one with reddish eyes, blue-grey feathers, dark grey tail, and a shiny green and purple neck - is officially known as a rock dove or the common pigeon. So common, it is often considered a pest wherever they are abundant.

You've probably seen flocks of them mooch spilt rice or grain from shops, roosting in trees and on power lines or ledges, "bombing" unsuspecting cars and passers-by, or hanging out in nooks and corners of condo balconies and fouling these areas with feathers and poop.

So that's why I don't have pictures of the nest. You don't want to see any. This creature is also one reason I passed on a unit at a nearby condo. And I have yet to forgive what one of them did to my car 24 hours after I had it polished.

Like dogs, cats, raccoons and the occasional polar bear, pigeons have long associated humans with free food, so I guess we brought that on ourselves.

Found this squab on the steps of my condo several days after posting.
Not sure if this is the surviving squab SQ1, but it looks about the
same age. Practically a juvenile pigeon by now.

A young pigeon is called a squab - a word I haven't seen in years. When I first read it, I think it referred to some kind of food. Searching for "squab" on Instagram yields many images of dead but well-prepared and beautifully plated birds. Shatin roast pigeon, anyone?

For the first week or so, pigeon squabs are fed an exclusive diet of what's called crop milk or pigeon milk, a nutrient-dense substance that looks like cottage cheese. Both male and female pigeons can produce it, which you'd think would help out a lot when raising young.

But I assume that the amount and quality of crop milk produced depend on how well the bird is doing, so problems crop up if the parents aren't eating enough or, somehow, they have more than two squabs to feed. Pigeoons rarely lay more than two eggs per clutch.

...Thirty days. Squabs take about 30 days to fledge after hatching, which takes 17 to 19 days, but that may depend on how well they were fed. Thought I had forgotten, didn't you?

Also, pigeons breed about once or twice a year. They can have young less than a year after hatching and typically live for a few years in the wild, and longer in captivity. The population will be fine. But be careful when walking or parking your car under trees.


Sibling squab-ble?
My pigeon tenants had two chicks but when I checked on them before last Christmas, I saw that one of the squabs was nearly twice as big as the other.

The smaller and presumably younger one, which I dubbed SQ2, looked at least a week behind its larger sibling, SQ1, in development. The latter had begun sporting juvenile wing and tail feathers while the former was still a grey puffball.

Either SQ2 had hatched late or had a defect that hampered its growth,¹ or SQ1 had a farther head start after hatching. Both squabs are aggressive, and after each feeding the parent seemed eager to escape.

Arguably, when feeding your kids involve them shoving their beaks into your throat while you puke your milk, you'd think twice about having them. But we're talking about pigeons, which only seem to exist as fodder and fouler of balconies, ledges, roofs and cars.

So for days I've been hearing the peep peep peep of two pushy squabs from my unit as they wait for Mom or Dad to come home. Then, yesterday - or was it the day before? - I looked out the window and saw SQ1 all but covered in juvenile pigeon plumage.

SQ2, however, was nowhere.


And then there was one
Upon seeing SQ1 and SQ2, I knew the latter would be in trouble. Besides possibly hatching first, SQ1 has been getting the lion's share during feedings. Unable to compete, SQ2 was losing out. Mom and Dad might also be hard-pressed to produce enough crop milk.

The only possibility I can think of is that, when the squabs were chasing Mom or Dad around, jostling for a feed, SQ2 either lost its footing and fell off the ledge, or had been accidentally pushed off by its sibling or parent.

I don't believe it was intentional. Unless they're stressed or barring certain factors,² pigeons do not turn on their young.

Regardless, I hope SQ2 had died from the fall. Because if it didn't and kept calling for its parents, one of them may kill it in a practice called scalping, in case the squab's cries attract predators.

Nor would falling near another pigeon nest help. Besides being skittish, pigeons are also territorial and will attack or kill squabs other than their own. And if the nest or squabs appear disturbed, the parents will abandon both.

These things happen. The law of the jungle stays even if the jungle itself is gone.


Leaving the nest
Things took another turn today. A hungry squab will chase its parent around until it is sated or the parent flees, but from this afternoon's feeding, the parent seems to be priming SQ1 for take-off. Sometimes I think the adults do this to get their offspring out of the nest ASAP so they can nookie and make more shitbirds.

As SQ1 had migrated from the main ledge to one of the side ledges, I tried to spot it from another window. Looking up and to the left, I was greeted by a tuft of dark grey feathers, then a head with a beak.

A quick visit on my way out to run an errand confirmed the presence of another new pigeon nest one level up, under another air-con compressor. A parent was brooding something on top of what looked like dirtied packing material.

Thus, life finds ways.

When I returned later in the evening, I peered out to the ledge. I was surprised to see SQ1 perched on another ledge two floors down.

The surviving juvenile had, technically, fledged.

Though pigeons are reputed to have good homing instincts, I don't think SQ1 will be returning to the nest, which now requires hazmat treatment. Nasty things lurk in whatever's left behind, including spores of a disease-causing fungus.

And hey, pigeons can carry bird flu viruses too, so please don't trap them for food while in lockdown. We don't want to incubate any more pandemic-grade pathogens.

Nevertheless, I'll be calling the condo management next week to see if they can do something about the empty nest. I wish them - and SQ1, wherever it may be - all the best.


¹ From a research paper (PDF file) about reasons squabs die. What atrocious writing. Wasn't this peer-reviewed for grammar?

² Never knew these cooing crap machines are this savage. These facts and more pigeon trivia can apparently be found on the main site. And with the other supplementary links I've sprinkled throughout, now you and I know more about pigeons than we probably should.

Too Precious For Its Own Good?

In a local book lovers' Facebook page, a conversation developed around an article that was critical of Rupi Kaur's poems. "I wish we had a new label to describe Kaur’s output," proclaims the writer. "Poetry is too delicate and precious a word to be besmirched by such associations."

Really? Then perhaps poetry needs to be less precious to make it more accessible. Perhaps it also needs to be less delicate to stand up to growing scrutiny.

And if poetry has become too "precious" and "delicate" due to gatekeeping by the likes of the writer, then perhaps few are better suited to batter down those gates than Rupi Kaur.

Let me own up to my gatekeeping tendencies, which until recently tended to lean towards the literati side. The yardstick these days seems to be how viral it is, which determines how well it sells.

But things can go viral for less-than-savoury reasons.

Rupi's success did not come out of nowhere. The lore states that she was discovered on Instagram and when she went to print the fanbase followed.

Nor does the vector matter in virality. Any publicity, however bad, is better than none, so in writing his piece the writer at LiveMint is spreading the fever.

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Granted, Rupi's prose is easy to hate on. It's so ... plain, goes one complaint. Sounds like hardly any effort went into it! Just everyday sentences that are broken at random points!

And she didn't do herself a huge favour by saying: "I'm a very empathetic person to a fault, my Dad will tell you. I see somebody remotely having a bad day and suddenly I'm on the floor crying."

These days, one can produce something trite or gimmicky, seemingly without any effort, hype it up by word of mouth and it flies off the shelves. Fewer and fewer works bear the polish and perfume traditionally associated with the craft.

Seeing these people - some of whom are already celebrities - getting rich and being feted like the greats of old must chafe for some.

"Couldn't have they found someone else?" But you have to look at the audience, don't you? What is it that they found appealing about this poet or their work? Do they deserve the same smear of tar from these creators' detractors?

"If only So-and-So or This Other Person were similarly successful." Maybe they already are? And by "successful", is it by their yardsticks or yours? Perhaps the price of fame within the arena Rupi found herself in might not be worth it? Commercial success, as we know by now, may not mean quality.

And if Louise Glück received the 2020 Nobel Prize for Literature, surely someone is looking out for the likes of her, so maybe we can rest easy.

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Publishers and retailers today, particularly the big names, relentlessly seek the next big thing. If they're no longer good at highlighting new or hidden talents, they did it to themselves by chasing the bottom line and growing too big to fail, even a little.

So potentially good stuff gets sidelined for the sake of those churned out by recognisable names: viral names or names in the news that, hopefully, mean large profit margins that'll keep them afloat for another year.

A diverse publishing ecosystem comprising multitudes of smaller players exposes people to more names, including those the LiveMint writer feels are more deserving of the attention Rupi is getting. But the mere mention of "break it up" or "go small" seems to send chills down the spines of executives.

Maybe the LiveMint writer's ire is misdirected here.

Let's not forget that some of the lionised figures in poetry, despite their failings and the brickbats of others, have gone viral in their day and age.

Then and now, notoriety is more efficient than merit in spreading the word.

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In the article, the writer acknowledged that, despite what they feel about Rupi's works, "there's a wave of opinion that argues that writers like Kaur speak for immigrants, people of colour, and women. Her unadorned directness, glib motivational slogans, and, at times, nonsensical blandness have broken the barriers of elitism in poetry." (Okay, the last bit is a little backhanded.)

If she's writing about her own darkness, her courage to confront or relive that pain each time she pens another verse should be noted. Don't discount the possibility that many out there are finding solace and hope in her work during these difficult times.

(And it has a local book lovers' circle debating the nature or definition of poetry. Also a plus when interesting viewpoints emerge. For me, as well - viewpoints, not necessarily interesting ones - which is why I'm putting them down here instead of a Facebook reply.)

Everything has its role in an environment. All sorts of things exist, flourish, and can only grow in fertile soil, which also harbours things we don't like. We can be honest with that.

After all, literature is a messy and happening sphere that thrives on diversity. Sanitised soil seldom nurtures flower nor fruit.

So what to call Rupi's work, then? Perhaps we should stick with "poetry". The field is big enough to accomodate her and if it has any borders, it's probably the ones we draw around ourselves and what we know.