When you can’t bear the news anymore…

There are always pigeons.

It is spring in Tel Aviv, and pigeon hearts are aflutter. Love is in the air, mating season is upon us, and I have only now come to truly appreciate the origin of the expression “lovey-dovey”. Who could have imagined just how affectionate pigeons can be with one another? Canoodling, cooing, coy glances from the female, puffing up from the male — it’s really very charming.

But here’s the thing. All this romance leads inevitably to “the deed”, followed by baby pigeons and, surprisingly, a lifetime commitment between the parents. From there, we all know what happens next.

Real Estate. Yes, real estate. As is the case for any young couple at this stage of life, a safe home must be found, furnished, and defended against predators and fellow pigeons alike. And Tel Aviv is as competitive a real estate market for birds as it is for the rest of us.

Which brings me to our balcony.

We have, on our balcony, I am sorry to say, the “ne plus ultra” of pigeon residences; the most desirable place in all of Tel Aviv. Location, design, size — it has it all. When we moved in a year ago, there were more fly-in viewings on our balcony, than there had been human tenants looking at the apartment itself.

This prime property, nestled between our sliding glass doors and the exterior shutters, measures about 10 cm wide by about 2 metres deep. A “forever home”, with attractive high ceilings, it offers everything a newlywed couple could want: classy neighbours, lovely neighbourhood parks, room for the kids, and top of the line security. No wonder it attracted so much interest — and still does.

One prospective feathered tenant got stuck there one night when, unaware of its presence, Mike closed up the shutters. The next morning when he opened them up, the pigeon stumbled out, dazed and confused. Mike felt exactly the same way. And then the light went on. Now we understood exactly what our pigeon visitors were looking for.

Sympathetic as we are to the plight of young couples starting out, we had already signed a lease for this space — all of it — and we were not about to share it with a noisy young family of prolific poopers. So we had to take defensive measures.

This plastic bird of prey probably fools us more than the pigeons, but between it, and the spikes, we have kept the interior space pigeon free. Not that they — ever hopeful — have stopped swinging by for a look. Luckily, the space is too narrow for a flying entry, or we’d have a whole different set of problems.

Now that our balcony is more or less safe from incursion, we are enjoying the antics of another feathered pair who moved into a place — albeit not nearly as nice as ours — in the building next door. More of a starter home, it is tucked into a gap in a concrete window frame, adjacent to a long ledge, ideal for entertaining and sunbathing. It’s small but it has good outdoor space.

Mike calls it the pigeon hotel even though only one couple (and their occasional broods) live there. This is because almost every morning, a bunch of pigeons come by and line up on the window ledge, looking for all the world as though they are there to check in. They poke their beaks into the home, the owners come out, and a noisy argument ensues. Then they all fly off for something to eat. Sometimes they seem comically human, and we have become quite fond of them.

If you have made it this far, you will be relieved to know that I am finished with my tribute to the humble pigeon, and will likely resume posting on more serious matters next week.

On the other hand, there is a bird sanctuary on the Yarkon river that I have been dying to visit….