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COVER STORY PIGEONS DROPPING
© 1998 NewTimes, Inc. |
PIGEONS DROPPING
Pigeons navigate better than any pilot, they’re more sociable than any debutante, they’ve adapted to the urban landscape better than any human. But they poop. So we’re poisoning them.BY JEANNETTE BATZ
On Sunday, Nov. 15, Paula Goldman was enjoying a family brunch at Patrick’s at West Port, idly watching her nieces and nephews play around the plaza fountain. Through the big glass windows, she noticed a pigeon standing rigidly still, unresponsive to the prodding of curious children. Her 7-year-old niece ran in to say there was something wrong with the bird, please come. Just then a maintenance man appeared with a net and a long stick. Goodman rushed outside. “He said the pigeon was dying, and he was going to put it in the parking lot,” she recalls. “Then I saw five or six birds fluttering into the windows. They would fly up into the air and just fall back down. Some were convulsing. Two young teenage girls had wrapped one of the pigeons in a towel to try to warm him, and they were crying. The head maintenance guy came up and said, ‘Put the pigeons down, they are dying, we have poisoned them.’”
Stomach muscles
involuntarily kneading her ample brunch, Goodman left the restaurant —
and came on more dead pigeons in the parking lot. “I saw corn-shaped pellets
on the ground,” she adds worriedly, and starts thinking aloud. “If that’s
what was poisoned, couldn’t children and other animals get hold of it?”
Before leaving
town, Goodman hotlined the incident to the St. Louis Animal Rights Team.
But their vice president, Brenda Shoss, says West Port Plaza’s property
managers, Colliers Turley Martin Tucker, sounded a little ... squirrelly
when asked about the pigeon drop. “At first, they acted like they didn’t
even know what we were talking about,” says Shoss, who’d already learned
that West Port was using the controversial pesticide Avitrol. “They acted
like it never even happened.”
By now, they probably wish it hadn’t. Pigeons are Rodney Dangerfield
birds, birds everybody loves to hate. They thrive in crowded cities; their
droppings are acidic and messy; they’ve been tagged a health risk. Yet
the minute somebody starts poisoning the pigeons, the public rises up to
protest. It’s like hiring a thug to machine-gun an annoying college roommate.
Pigeons have a
far nobler provenance than the roommate, though. They’re actually European
rock doves, their lineage tracing straight back to the biblical symbol
of love, peace and Holy Spirit. Believed to be the first domesticated animal,
pigeons have carried everything from Noah’s olive branch to word of the
coronation of Egyptian pharaoh Ramses III. (Not to mention transporting
life-saving medicines and messages during World War II, and performing
spy missions with aerial cameras strapped to their plump breasts.) Over
the centuries, they’ve grown progressively more comfortable with humans,
eating our litter and baptizing our statues and turning the ledges of our
skyscrapers into a modern version of a rocky-cliff habitat.
Darwin studied
pigeons to formulate his evolutionary theory and came to love these birds
so dearly he refused to dissect them ever again. Breeders fancy them and
coop them eagerly. World religions borrow them to symbolize love, spirit
and afterlife, and in folklore a pigeon’s entrance means someone is about
to die. (In modern cities, a human’s entrance bodes the same for the birds.)
Watching a pigeon
strut and bob his tiny head, you might think him stupid. But these birds
are said to possess the symbolic-reasoning capacity of a grade-school child.
(Pigeons in labs have not only learned the alphabet but have made the same
kinds of mistakes kids make along the way.) When it comes to navigation,
and some kinds of memory, pigeons outshine us by hundreds of watts. Kelly
Swindle, president of the Tulsa-based Avitrol Corp., calls them “dumb as
dirt.” But even he admits “their behavior’s intriguing.”
Pigeons mate for
life, feed their babies milk and welcome strangers into their flocks without
suspicion. Sociable and adaptable, they bring life to our gray concrete
cities, and their good-natured opportunism wards off depression in many
an elderly parkgoer. Pigeons are urban survivors, their adaptability enhanced
by centuries of selective breeding and release. Today, we call unowned
pigeons feral and fear them as “rats with wings” or cockroaches-after-a-nuclear-war.
After all, as nature writer David Quammen points out, they now fly faster,
eat a more diverse diet, breed earlier and more abundantly, and “succeed
at living at high population densities in close proximity to people who
despise them.... They are genetically designed for survival in the severe
urban landscapes of the late twentieth century.”
In many ways, they’ve
adapted better than we have.
Maybe we resent
it.
The poison used at West Port Plaza is called Avitrol; to a scientist,
it’s 4-aminopyridine, originally developed by Phillips Petroleum Co. and
the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service as a “chemical scarecrow” to deter songbirds
from damaging crops. As soon as the first few birds are intoxicated, they
issue loud warning cries and the rest of the songbirds fly away. “Songbirds,”
emphasizes Barry Kent Mac-Kay, a Canadian naturalist who directs international
programs for the Animal Protection Institute of America.
| “In other words, it was developed for birds who have a physiological ability to utter a distress call. Pigeons don’t. They cannot utter these loud alarm notes. |  |
”Dave Roth was so appalled by Avitrol’s use on pigeons that he founded the Urban Wildlife Society in Phoenix, in 1989. |
| "Pigeons
don't scream. They have no sound for pain. They just shudder
and convulse until they burn their little hearts out."
-- Dave Roth, Urban Wlildlife Society |
||
“Pigeons don’t scream,”
he enunciates deliberately. “They have no sound for pain. They just shudder
and convulse until they burn their little hearts out.”
That simple difference
has escaped the Avitrol Corp. marketing materials for 28 years. Although
pigeons have become one of their plumpest targets, providing roughly 50
percent of their business, Avitrol’s fact sheets refer frequently and vaguely
to “distress calls,” and Avitrol spokesperson Eleanor Bodenhamer says the
chemical “works to make them send out distress cries and makes them flap
their wings and act like they’re in danger.”
Well, they’re not
crying, but they are in danger. “Avitrol causes a fairly dramatic
death,” observes Dr. Alex Bermudez, an avian-disease expert at the University
of Missouri-Columbia College of Veterinary Medicine. “Systems are shutting
down and the central nervous system is shooting off uncoordinated nerve
signals.” Swindle, of Avitrol, thinks “the way the product works is really
kind of intriguing. The chemical causes the bird’s brain wave to go flat.”
Oh. “It then causes impulses to go out to the motor system, causing muscle
twitches that make the bird appear as though it is trying to communicate.”
That’s
the “distress cry.”
Swindle calls it
body language and insists his stuff’s humane. He cites a 1979 study at
the University of Ottawa, where pathologists fed White Carneaux pigeons
Avitrol through a stomach tube (the birds wouldn’t eat the poisoned corn
chips) and concluded that, although Avitrol’s effects were “visually repugnant,”
the convulsions were pain-free.
Avitrol Corp.’s
fact sheet says most birds are “affected in a manner that will artificially
cause them to emit distress and alarm cries.” But if you’re a pigeon, there’s
nothing artificial about seizures, regurgitation, disorientation, twitching,
rigidity, loss of muscle coordination and cardiac arrest. And although
a seizure may be technically pain-free, it’s upsetting as hell, maybe more
so for pigeons. Not only can’t they scream, their acute sense of balance
and orientation is
thrown into chaos. Pigeons are intensely tactile — every feather attached to nerve and muscle — and intensely orderly, upset by the slightest ruffle in their plumage. Veterinarian Karyn Bischoff, a toxicologist with the Oklahoma Animal Disease Diagnostic Laboratory, says that “frequently the birds die from trauma due to the loss of muscle control.”
Avitrol’s makers
are quick to note that, although “some mortality is inevitable,” many birds
recover. Activists such as Roth aren’t rejoicing. “A lot of times it
just scrambles their brains,” he says from Phoenix, and the rescued birds
squawking in the background add emphasis to his gentle voice. “With the
seizure, their temperature goes way up and can cause brain damage.”
In Canada, MacKay’s
seen consequences of even mild disorientation and loss of control. “The
birds often get themselves into extremely compromising situations,” he
explains. “By the time they come out of it, they may be under the tire
of a car or smashed into a window.”
The West Port pigeon kill was well-intentioned, of course, and indirect: The property manager contracted with Massachusetts-based Ecolab Pest Elimination. Ecolab’s safety manager, Chris Strand, says they’ve used Avitrol at West Port Plaza “on and off for about five years” and have quite a few other St. Louis clients, too. He recites the litany: Avitrol is not a poison but a “flight alarm” that gooses the flock onward.
If that’s true,
why was Avitrol banned in Britain as early as 1976? Why has San Francisco
outlawed it; why is a New York senator trying to; why did the American
Society for the Protection of Animals go to court to get it banned in New
Jersey; why do vets and humane societies across the country oppose it?
In sum, because
of the toxic and cruel way it works, and because it doesn’t work
in the long term. Year after year, people hire experts to poison away “pestbirds.”
If they overdo it, dead pigeons rain down on somebody’s unsuspecting parade.
Then Avitrol Corp. reassures the public that their product is just a deterrent,
it’s not supposed to work that way, and the flap dies down. Literally.
In this case, Marie
Casey, who handles public relations for West Port Plaza, insists the chemical
was a necessary last resort. “Avitrol is not supposed to be deadly,” she
points out. “It all depends on how much they ingest. If one would eat a
whole lot, it would kill them.”
Ah, but surely
every pigeon heeds Aristotle’s praise of moderation.
“It’s very hard
to track pigeons,” Casey continues chattily, “because they don’t try to.
But they think the first flock left and another might have come in.” So
the Avitrol did work as a gentle alarm? And the newcomers just happened
to stage a group suicide?
Finally, Casey
says West Port Plaza was only trying to protect the health of their human
guests (many of whom probably feed the pigeons from sidewalk tables and
make the problem worse). Moved by her concern, we ask Strand at what point
pigeon density becomes a human-health concern. “Pigeons become a problem
when they are a problem to our customer,” he replies cheerfully.
“In this particular
case, we did put up two owls,” he continues. “One had a head that moved
with the wind.” They tried
some mesh screening, too, and put “sticky stuff” on ledges, but the pigeons’ favorite roost was too steep. “The owls had been up for about a month when the decision was made to go with the Avitrol.”
And just exactly
how does Avitrol work? “It’s mixed in with corn after a period of prebaiting,
to get the birds used to it,” says Strand. “They’re suspicious of any change
in their environment.” As well they should be. What happens once they’re
fed the Avitrol mix? “A few will have a reaction similar to a seizure.”
Similar
to? “It’s basically a seizure,” he admits. “That activity will frighten
off the rest of the flock. Over time, they will gradually come back. But
at least initially the flock will disperse.”
About all those
dead pigeons: “I think that was an exaggeration,” Strand says firmly. “Maintenance
people reported five.” Five, total? Cross-examined, Goodman exclaims, “Oh
gosh, no. I saw about seven in the fountain area, and hotel guests were
saying they were seeing dead pigeons everywhere, and as we walked around
the parking lot I saw another five, and my family saw several more when
they went down to the lake area where the ducks are.”
Ducks eat corn,
too, and Avitrol will kill any vertebrate. But Ecolab says they placed
the grain on a flat rooftop and gathered it up after the deed was done.
One hopes there
wasn’t any wind.
Avitrol’s one of those acutely toxic chemicals that slid in under the wire, receiving the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency’s blessing before the pesticide laws were tightened. Now, Avitrol’s being reviewed for re-registration. But for the time being, it’s classified — thanks to those original songbirds — as a “flight alarm tool” and not an avicide. Which means that, even though powdered Avitrol is Class I, with most applications restricted to certified professionals, the company doesn’t have to answer to public pressure for killing birds.
| "A
‘deterrent’ with a 30 percent mortality rate? To me, that’s a poison."
-- Walter Crawford, World Bird Sanctuary |
It’s certainly
a hazardous waste, which started us wondering what Ecolab does with it
once the evil deed is done. “We dispose of it following the label directions,”
Strand answered carefully. And those are? “Well, let me see here. We do
try to reuse whenever we can,” he stalls. “Using it up is our preferred
mode. If there was any left, we’d ... ” Ah. He’s found the label. “We’d
take it to approved landfills.”
Good thing. Because
the manufacturer states plainly, “Avitrol is toxic to all vertebrate species
that eat the chemical.” Back in 1978, two human beings gulped some of the
powder, believing it to be the aphrodisiac Spanish fly. Heroic measures
saved their lives, and the University of Virginia Hospital issued an alert
naming the “usual sequence of symptoms: hyperexcitability, salivation,
tremors, muscle incoordination, convulsions, and cardiac or respiratory
arrest.”
Other animals may
not lust after aphrodisiacs, but what if they snack on some stray corn?
“The
amount it takes to kill a pigeon will also kill a 25-pound dog,” notes
Roth. “We’ve seen case after case in apartment buildings, and almost invariably
we will find one or two dead cats.”
When Strand says
“there’s no secondary kill,” what he means is that Avitrol is quickly metabolized
in digestion. The flesh of a poisoned bird won’t harm a cat, dog or raptor
who eats it. But pigeons don’t digest their food right away. They tuck
it away in the crop, where it bulges the neck like a goiter, and it enters
the stomach only gradually. “When a raptor eats a pigeon, he is not very
dainty about it,” notes MacKay. “He swallows the corn in their crop, too.
I once picked up a gyrfalcon we knew was feeding on pigeons at the Toronto
waterfront and, sure enough, that bird ended up dead. We found corn and
pigeon feathers in its crop.
“Owls also swallow
their prey whole,” he continues, “and sparrows will eat baited corn. But
how on earth would you prove in a court of law (that Avitrol caused their
death)?”
Here in St. Louis,
our downtown and riverfront host endangered peregrine falcons (who owe
their comeback in part to pigeon sustenance). Crawford remembers “a female
peregrine falcon seen feeding on a pigeon at ADM Growmore, where Avitrol
is used as pigeon control. She became uncoordinated, fell over and couldn’t
fly.” That time, the sanctuary’s rehab team was able to save her. “But
we get peregrines in quite often who’ve been dead for two or three days,”
adds Crawford, “with no sign of physical trauma.” By then it’s too late
for a necropsy (to determine cause of death). People don’t usually pay
to have their cat or dog necropsied, either. So any poisoned-pigeon connections
go undetected.
Meanwhile, pesticide users hype the dangers of pigeon poop to human health. Just to justify West Port Plaza’s toxic shooing, Casey pronounces pigeons “known carriers of 50 or more human diseases and ectoparasites.”
“Fifty?”
echoes avian-disease expert Bermudez. “Well, maybe if you count all the
different salmonellas. Pigeons carry at least three different organisms
that are potential pathogens for humans. Balance that against the fact
that there are many people who race pigeons and keep pigeon lofts and are
still alive to tell about it. Nothing is without risk.”
Risk increases,
though, when age or illness compromises someone’s immune system. How do
we know when a population of “rats with feathers” has grown too dense for
human safety? “Problematic density is probably more determined by people
getting their possessions defaced,” murmurs Bermudez. “I’m not terribly
worried about pigeons.”
Bermudez could
be biased toward his winged patients, so we call Bill Kottkamp, a respected
expert who supervised vector control for most of his 14 years at the St.
Louis County Health Department. “We don’t see pigeon-related-disease problems
in the St. Louis region,” he says. “I don’t think they’re seeing them anywhere
in the Midwest. The only real problem is if fresh droppings are left on
a sidewalk — they can be slippery — or if rehabbers find a roost with a
dried buildup of droppings.”
Next we call the
Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) in Atlanta, and ask whether
they
worry about pigeons as a public-health hazard. “We do have some concern
about the indiscriminate killing of pigeons,” replies Dr. Marshall
Lyon at CDC’s National Center for Infectious Diseases. “There are better
ways.” Next, he describes the disease links: As carriers of salmonella,
“pigeons are like any other bird, including chickens.” As carriers of another
common bird germ, chlamydia, they mainly endanger pet-store owners and
breeders, who — like all sexually responsible adults — should avoid unprotected
contact with an infected bird. As for cryptococcosis, it’s found mainly
at elevated roost sites, where organic dust mixes with dried pigeon droppings.
That makes three.
What about histoplasmosis, a surprisingly common illness that can be symptom-free,
cause flulike symptoms or, in rare cases, do serious damage? Casey calls
it “the most common pigeon-carried disease.”
In point of fact,
pigeons don’t carry histoplasmosis. Their droppings simply enrich the soil
where it already grows. “In St. Louis, histo is well-known, and it’s in
the soil, regardless of whether pigeons are around or not,” says Lyon.
Old, long-accumulated droppings do provide nutrients for histo, but fresh
droppings on sidewalks and window sills present no risk at all, because
the birds themselves are not infected.
Avitrol’s Web site
mentions histo prominently, says “the blame can be placed directly on the
fungus-bearing droppings associated with infestations of pigeons,” and
cites national disease rates. But Lyon calls those rates “misleading and
irrelevant, because histo’s so ubiquitous. It’s in the soil, regardless
of whether pigeons are around or not, and it’s especially prevalent in
the middle third of the country.” So would getting rid of pigeons make
a difference? “Not in terms of histo,” he chuckles. “If you’ve lived in
St. Louis any length of time, you’ve probably had it already.”
You’d think, after all the seizures and crashes and corpses and
outcry, Avitrol would at least be a permanent solution. “When you reduce
the number in a flock, you reduce the competition, and it makes the pigeons
even more robust,” explains Kent Robertson, executive director of the Humane
Society of Missouri. “Avitrol is just going to kill a bunch of pigeons
and draw more into the area.” The original birds might be permanently scared
off, but pigeons cover the continent, and they’re always looking for a
new piece of real estate.
Even some pest-management
companies are seeking more permanent methods. Writing in Pest Control
Today in March 1996, George Rambo said, “In some cases we resort to
chemicals to reduce populations or move them out of an area. However, I
see more and more management companies, as well as more and more government
contracts, beginning to require longer-lasting solutions.”
If you’re protecting
the spires of a Gothic cathedral, you might have to design an elaborate
barrier system. But if you’re starting from scratch, all you have to do
is factor the inevitable pigeons into the design. “Pigeons are part of
the environment the way cold weather is,” remarks MacKay. “We build structures
to expand in the cold, but we don’t engineer with any thought to wildlife.”
We probably never
will. By definition, “wildlife” falls out of civilization’s purview — except
as something to tame, evade or hunt. Senegalese poet Baba Dioum writes,
“In the end, we conserve only what we love.” And “pigeon lover” remains
a ridiculous term.
We must settle
for common sense. Eliminate attractions. Pigeons feed on trash: Contain
it. They use the fine gravel on flat rooftops for grit: Avoid it. Get serious,
the way New Orleans did, about forbidding people to feed pigeons in areas
that are overrun. Block landing sites, make roosting sites inaccessible.
Pigeon-proof.
“I know, I know,
the customers don’t want to pay; they want a quick solution,” writes Rambo.
“Bird-proofing is quick. Put it up and the birds are gone. And it
is permanent. Maybe that is the problem — no repeat customers,” he muses.
“Think of it this way. Build birds out, exclude them from their roost,
and they have to go somewhere. And maybe you will get that call,
too.”
Strand says Ecolab
tried
pigeon-proofing West Port Plaza. But, in effect, they did the basics (trash
removal, polite signs, a little bit of mesh, two owls for a month). According
to Art Slater, an environmental-health expert who runs the pest-management
department for the University of California-Berkeley, that’s nowhere near
enough. He took over 20 years ago, reduced campus pesticide use by 90-99
percent and increased control. But it took patience, money and creativity.
“We’ve had success
with 14-inch balloons that have big eyes and a tail and wobble in the breeze,”
he reports solemnly. “We’ve had success with owls that move, or hawk and
falcon models that move, if the resident pigeons are gone and the
new fly-by pigeons see them. As for owls that stay motionless, I’ve got
pictures of pigeons landing on them.”
Speaking of landing,
surfaces are crucial — the rougher the better. When Berkeley resurfaced
one of its buildings with a smoother glaze, the pigeons stopped landing
on it. “Someone should study the coefficient for the friction of the landing
surfaces,” suggests Slater. “There’s untapped potential there.”
Other barriers
include porcupine wire, Slinkys, fishnetting, dunce caps to prevent lighting
fixtures from serving as a landing pad, concrete to turn ledges into slick
ramps. Slater’s not big on spikes, though. “They’re ugly, and accumulate
feathers and debris. I have a picture of a pigeon who filled the spikes
with nesting material; she has the best-anchored nest in the world!”
As for the “sticky
stuff” often used to keep birds off ledges, the Urban Wildlife Society
says it’s crueller than a sudden death. “They can get a big ball of the
goo stuck in their throats,” explains Roth, “or they can get it on their
feathers, and it can prevent them from thermoregulating, so they freeze
to death.”
It’s not clear
whether that happened at West Port Plaza, but the corn Goodman saw on the
ground shouldn’t have been there, says Slater. “They might have overbaited.
There shouldn’t be any left.” Strand says Ecolab used a 1-to-9 ratio
and intended only to scare the birds off. But, according to Slater, “One
grain to 10 is pretty much a lethal dose. Scaring doses are 1-to-26.” Avitrol’s
own label suggests starting with 1-to-29 but allows a range all
the way down to 1-to-9, noting that more concentrated doses bring quicker
results — and higher mortality.
Swindle recalls
an aluminum mill besieged by pigeons whose droppings were literally gumming
up the works. They used Avitrol at a ratio of 1-to-9 and baited twice,
on Christmas morning and New Year’s Day. By Jan. 2, only four of the 2,000
or so pigeons were living at that mill.
These “success
stories” help Swindle defend Avitrol against more permanent solutions.
“The beauty of it is, it’s economical,” he says, pointing out that if you
de-pigeon an isolated area, replacements might never arrive.
He’s right. Except,
there are fewer and fewer isolated areas.
“As our human population
expands,” says Crawford, “we take up more and more of the natural space
where these birds can live, and push them out.” He pauses, just long enough
for the anger to crest. “Are we going to kill off everything that gets
in our way?”
EDITORIAL DEPARTMENT
Senior Editors Jeannette Batz, Richard Byrne
The Riverfront Times
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©1998 by Hartmann Publishing Company, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
January
20-26, 1999
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email: letters@rftstl.com
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Fax: (314) 615-6716
BIRD’S-EYE VIEW
To the Editor:
I just wanted to
thank you for the wonderful article on Avitrol (“Pigeons Dropping,” RFT,
Jan. 13). Newspapers rarely bother to publish such thorough and well-written
stories, especially when the victims are “only animals.” If we’re lucky,
that article might actually make some people try some of the alternate
methods of pigeon control, or — horrors! — a few folks might even decide
that they can live with the pigeons after all.
Thanks again to
Jeannette Batz and the editor. Keep up the good work!
Ione L. Smith, D.V.M.
To the Editor:
When a human does
something especially vile and disgusting, it is common for them to be called
“like an animal.” But only humans do these things. Animals, with few exceptions,
kill only to eat or defend themselves. Even in mating season they do not
kill their adversary.
But humans delight
in killing. We are preoccupied with it. We use it as the first, not the
last, resort. Unhappy with a country’s politics? Bomb them! Has someone
grown up without skills in this conservative paradise and resorted to crime?
Kill them! Don’t ask why. Don’t ask what is wrong with a society that believes
in building prisons but not funding schools. Think only of us. Wildlife
in the way? Kill it! Need to pollute the environment to make a buck? That’s
OK. Sure, it will kill some people, but so what? Want a fur or fur-trimmed
coat? That’s OK, we’ll just kill something for you.
I am sure we are
not God’s “favorite mistake.”
Joseph M. Reichert
To the Editor:
I would like to
commend Jeannette Batz on the article this past week in the RFT
on feral pigeons. I volunteer for Wild Bird Rehabilitation in Crestwood.
WBR is known for songbird rehabilitation, as they accept ill, injured and
orphaned songbirds up to the size of crows. We also take pigeons when space
is available. Pigeons are what I prefer to work with and have worked with
for over 5 years, and one of our most loved education birds is a pigeon.
We have received birds that have been poisoned; some make it, some don’t.
It is sad and maddening to watch an animal die in your hand from something
like Avitrol. No, they don’t scream; they hardly make any noise when they
fight, maybe a few grunts. As far as one pigeon driving off other pigeons
when they die, pigeons settle in an area or on a building and will “home”
to that building when they fly off and fly back in. A dead neighbor just
means a possible mate or more room/food for the next guy. The flapping
will not drive them away!
Pigeons have been
able to blend in with humans quite well, adapting to their environment
— quite like humans have done as they spread across the planet, adapting
to different environments. Pigeons are not like many other species that
would simply die out because the one tree they depend on dies out. I am
not anthropomorphizing, but are we to condemn a nonhuman species for adjusting
to their environment as we did to ours? As far as zoonotic diseases in
the feces, I have shoveled piles of this stuff and not gotten sick from
it. If I had histoplasmosis, I did not know it. Salmonella can be gotten
anywhere, as we all know.
This form of “bird
control” is cruel, inhumane and an easy way out of a situation that could
probably be handled if the building/home owner used a bit of common sense
and building improvement. As to Mr. Swindle’s comment “pigeons are dumb
as dirt,” any animal, including humans, are as smart as they need
to be to survive. They find food, shelter, they mate, they raise their
babies ... they have things to do and places to go.
Again, thank you
for your attention to this inhumaneness.
Diane Longenecker