Pity the Barefoot Pigeon
May 27, 2025 at 11:40PMFresh off last week’s read about racing pigeons in Texas, I dove into Ian Frazier’s New Yorker feature on the precarious lives of pigeons in New York City. These birds face a number of urban hazards, from predators like hawks and peregrine falcons to the grim fate of “string-foot,” a condition caused by entanglement in string, human hair, and other crud from the city’s countless dirty surfaces. Frazier documents the birds’ daily challenges, and also highlights the compassionate humans around the city who help and rehabilitate injured ones. It’s a curious and compelling piece in which Frazier treats his fragile yet resilient subjects with respect and thoughtfulness.
Frank took the pigeon out of its intake pet carrier. The bird seemed unresistant, but it watched her closely with one eye and then the other, something pigeons do to improve their depth perception. “This one is what we call B.A.R.,” Frank said. “That means it’s bright, alert, and responsive. Impaired birds are Q.A.R.—quiet, alert, and responsive. Except for the feet, it’s in good shape. The ones Lori brings in are usually B.A.R., because they don’t have to be impaired for her to catch them.” After testing the bird’s flapping ability by holding it at its midsection and raising it up (flapping normal), and listening to its heartbeat (also normal) with a stethoscope, she gave it an injection of sterile fluid to keep it hydrated, and then an intramuscular injection of pain medication. She put a clear conical mask over its head and bill and began a flow of oxygen, combined with isoflurane gas to knock it out. Then she carefully laid it on a spread-out towel, with its head on a rolled-up towel for a pillow. The de-stringing was likely to hurt, and she thought the bird would be safer if it was unconscious. In a few seconds, its eyes had glazed over.
The pigeon lay with its feet spread, like a K.O.’d boxer. Frank started on the left foot, using scissors, tweezers, and other sanitized instruments she took from plastic packages. The work requires a watchmaker’s focus. She cut through brown packing twine and dark pieces of thread and unwound them with the tweezers. The right foot was even worse than the left—a fright-wig mass of string, feathers, human hair, and some pale, waxy, tightly wrapped stuff that turned out to be dental floss. She unpicked the layers carefully, one at a time. When both feet were done, she put an antibiotic cream on the lesions with a Q-tip, and bandaged them with thin pieces of gauze and strips of vet wrap to hold it.
Frank turned off the isoflurane but left the oxygen on, and the pigeon began to regain consciousness. I wondered what consciousness it was regaining. What is the consciousness of a pigeon? I watched it move its bill as it took deeper breaths. Then an eye kind of clicked on.
from Longreads https://longreads.com/2025/05/27/barefoot-pigeons-new-york-city/
via IFTTT
Watch