Posts Tagged ‘barn pigeons’
Tolerance Reached
We have tolerated the ever-increasing number of pigeons roosting in the eaves of the barn overhang for the last few years but we’ve reached our limit. Their panicky flapping of departure and arrival each time they come and go gets incredibly annoying but the constant build-up of their shit coating every surface is the worst.
Short of resorting to methods of lethal force, we decided to put up barriers to close off their access to the eaves. Before covering the open areas, we decided to clean out the accumulation blocking the slots in the soffits.
That ended up being more nasty than we suspected it would be. If we don’t end up getting some form of bird flu or other illness from exposure to everything we found up there, it will be a shock.
In addition to the slabs of petrified pigeon droppings, there was a surprising amount of dismembered wings and other pigeon parts, including one entire body. We succeeded in doing some population control by removing several eggs. I was startled several times when a pigeon I didn’t know was still in there suddenly felt the time had come to escape, blasting past my face and almost knocking me off the ladder.
Now when they show up to roost, there is a lot of fluttering like a hummingbird as they struggle to figure out that their favorite spot is no longer available. Cyndie found a whole bunch had chosen to make do by perching on the 2-by-4 rafters for lack of other options.
If they persist there, we will need to add some disincentives to those spaces, as well.
I’d rather not spend any more time on a ladder for a long while. It was exhausting work to wrestle the hardware cloth into position and operate the staple gun at imperfect angles with my back and legs aching and my feet growing more tired of the rungs on the ladder by the minute.
The dang DeWalt heavy-duty stapler I have is supposed to have an “anti-jam magazine to prevent jams and misfires” as well as “easy squeeze technology.” Not on my model. I struggled mightily with both problems. It made for a frustrating combination up on the ladder where leverage is greatly compromised at extended reaches.
The horses were surprisingly calm tolerating our intrusion on their space and showed reasonable patience while we made them wait longer than usual for their afternoon feeding. They may understand what we were up to and appreciate the effort, although they will end up suffering some increase in frustrated pigeon wing-flapping for a little while.
I think they have tolerated the pigeon population explosion about as well as could be expected, but won’t be disappointed if the birds find other places to roost.
If this works as we hope, I will be overjoyed.
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Coping Well
When it gets extremely cold with dangerously low wind chill temperatures, schools cancel classes and communities postpone events, but nobody cancels walking the dog or feeding the horses. Eighteen below zero Fahrenheit doesn’t keep us from donning our “space suits” to trudge out into the harsh conditions and carrying out our duties the same as every other day.
Asher needs to get out there to freshly mark his territory, and the horses need us to make sure they can get a drink of water and feed them grain and hay. Finding the water isn’t frozen in the morning is a huge plus in having things go smoothly for the early feeding. All four horses appear to be coping well with the biting cold, which also goes a long way toward allowing us to enjoy life here in the Arctic conditions.
While I was standing idle in the morning sunlight, waiting for the horses to finish their grains, I noticed some pigeons were on the waterer. They weren’t satisfied with simply getting a drink. One of them jumped in the water like it was its personal hot tub.
I have no idea how they avoid getting frozen when they step back out into the -18°F air. I would expect them to become pigeoncicles. They have been leaving a lot of pigeon-poopcicles on the horses’ placemats lately that are almost impossible to scrape off. I would say the pigeons seem to be coping with the cold better than all the rest of us.
We are starting to count the days until we can pull blankets off the horses to free them from that annoyance. As soon as overnight temps quit dropping below zero and daytime temps are hitting the 20sF, we will offer the horses some relief. The blankets are helpful during cold snaps or heavy snowfalls, but the horses would prefer not having them matting down the hair on their backs for days on end.
They have done a good job of coping with the necessary evil this week. I’d think they would appreciate having the blankets fluffed and recentered on their backs, but they tend to act non-cooperatively most of the times we try.
We just need to cope with getting a little push-back and reposition the blankets anyway. Having the blankets hanging off-center may not bug them, but it bugs the OCD tendencies in me when I see it.
That’s an area where my coping skills could use a little work.
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Never Simple
We hadn’t had a problem with the horse waterer in the paddocks freezing up on us again for enough days in a row that I stopped thinking about it. I still regularly glance toward it to see if there is liquid water in the pans, but I haven’t been lifting the cover to press the float and verify water flows. Temperatures were in the teens yesterday, but there was no direct sunshine.
During the afternoon feeding, I found the pans dry and immediately set about trying to warm the lines with my hands while Cyndie hustled back to the house to heat a kettle of water to pour over the tubing. It has worked simply enough to solve the problem each time it occurred the last times we’ve dealt with this. Of course, since it stopped happening, I didn’t pursue buying a new heat tape for that line. D’oh!
Since we weren’t prepared to be doing this, and our latest snowstorm was just getting underway, afternoon chores were suddenly getting complicated. While I was waiting at the waterer for Cyndie to return, Mia came down from her feed bucket looking to get a drink. It’s an awful feeling to disappoint a horse that just wants a drink of water.
When Cyndie popped out of the barn with the thermos, she was also bringing some water in a scoop she planned to use to clean the waterer. Mia stuck her snout in the scoop and guzzled what she could get out of it. I took the thermos, and Cyndie went in to fill another bucket with water for Mia. It didn’t take long at all for me to get the waterer flowing again.
If the horses keep drinking from it, the line is less likely to freeze at these relatively moderate temperatures simply because of the flowing water that refills it. If there is no flow, freezing occurs. We’ll be bringing hot water with us at the morning feeding.
Then I’ll start clearing snow. Just two days ago, I scraped the nuisance trace of snow off the pavement up by the house.
It’s all buried again now.
One more thing that’s not simple is the trick of prey surviving the threats of predators. We suspect that friendly pigeon we started calling “Plucky” may have fallen victim to a prowling cat or fox. There wasn’t a lot of evidence left, but the wing feathers were a dark color.
The predator got a meal for another day.
Life goes on. Cyndie and I are headed to a somewhat rare gathering of my Hays siblings today for an afternoon of catching up on each others’ stories. It’s my chance to tell them all the things I don’t write in this space.
Later tonight, I hope to take in a little sports spectating in the form of the NHL’s 4 Nations Face-Off tournament game between the USA and Canada. Hockey rivalry much? I have a feeling this one won’t simply be just any old tournament hockey game, given the current state of government affairs.
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Poop Watch
The temperature has climbed above the negative numbers (F) for a couple of days, which should give the horses a break from their stoic stance against the bite of the deep freeze. We are hoping that will help Mia reclaim her usual appetite and spunk.
When the direct rays of sunshine arrived, Swings assumed the broadside position to absorb as much solar energy as possible.
The collection of frost at the top of her tail reveals the coldness of the air in the crystalizing of the moisture from a certain part of her anatomy. One might say it betrays her dignity.
The pigeons were all in on the idea of soaking up the morning rays.
They were occupying themselves with preening their feathers and puffing themselves up for maximum insulating value.
Once again, Mia did not show her normal interest in food and was now doing a little more pawing of the ground, which is an indication of discomfort. We were told to contact the vet. Around 11:00, the Doc showed up and assessed Mia was possibly dealing with an impaction to some degree.
I had witnessed a healthy poop earlier, and Cyndie reported Mia pooped again while the vet was there, so that showed the output was working. To help from the input side, the vet sedated Mia to get a tube down her throat and gave her a lot of water and a dose of laxative. Mia has been isolated in the smaller paddock, where we can control her food and see how much she poops.
She pooped a third time in the middle of the afternoon, but that would be sooner than we anticipated seeing results from the vet visit. We provided water in an electrically heated bucket under her half of the overhang, fed her some grain soaked in water, and offered her wet hay. She seemed pretty hungry and gobbled the wetted grain. That alone is a big change in her level of interest in food in the last two days.
When we get down to the barn this morning, the big question will be how much poop is in her paddock. Having her isolated is a great way to know for sure who is responsible for all the messes I need to clean up.
I have to admit, it’s not often I get to boast about being excited to find a lot of shit on the ground when we show up to feed the horses.
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Distantly Watching
Yesterday, I figured out that I don’t need to remain entirely ignorant about what is happening in the world during my endeavor to avoid news about politics or the government. Reading in my online community I spotted mention of a winter weather alert in some southern states of the U.S. Curious for more detail about that, I looked in on The Weather Channel.
What I found was nonstop news about the wildfires burning around Los Angeles. Yikes! Wind gusts reached 100 mph in places. Eventually, I spotted they were showing future radar scenes for Texas in a little window that showed the potential for significant snow. Dallas, Memphis, Nashville, and on toward the east/northeast will be getting a blast of winter precipitation today and tomorrow.
Up here in our local world, it is possible we might see some snowfall this afternoon, but they are predicting little to no accumulation.
It is always strange to me when weather conditions at our home up north are calm when dramatic wildfires and winter storm warnings are raging in the west and to our south. How did we get so lucky?
For a short while in the morning yesterday, it looked as if all the birds in the area had vanished. I wondered if they knew something about the weather that we didn’t. There wasn’t a single pigeon flying around the vicinity of the paddocks and barn overhang.
There was still one quiet bird, “Plucky,” sitting all fluffed up on top of a fence post under the overhang, but that didn’t surprise me. When I took Asher out for a “sniffari” exploration just before noon, I didn’t see pigeons anywhere. For that matter, I didn’t even hear a single bird call from any type of bird.
It was eery.
Without explanation, when we showed up to feed the horses in the late afternoon, a fraction of the usual number of pigeons reappeared. As I was hauling bales of hay from the shed to the barn, I noticed a flock of smaller birds with muted coloring flittering around the big doors. Everything seemed perfectly normal.
Maybe they all knew a hawk or an eagle that I failed to notice was perched nearby, distantly watching.
My heart goes out to those impacted by the catastrophic wildfires in California and Mexico, as well as the folks who are not accustomed to navigating the hazards brought on by winter snowstorms that are coming their way.
I’ll be watching your situation from afar as things progress throughout the day and sending love to all, both citizens and responders.
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Frozen Observations
Getting out of bed on mornings when the temperature outside is below zero and the first order of business involves walking a dog and tending to horses, takes an extra level of oomph that gets harder and harder to muster. Even Asher chose to stay in bed for an extra few minutes this morning after Cyndie opened the door of his crate.
But greet the day we must, and soon we found ourselves plodding along the North Loop trail on the snowless frozen tundra. I don’t know what depth the frost has reached at this point, but not very far beneath our land, the water table is still liquid. Hydrostatic pressure is pushing it up above ground where it freezes in slippery growing mounds on our trail.
Asher had no interest in lingering after the horses were taken care of because the pads of his feet were getting almost as cold as Cyndie’s fingers. The little black pigeon that I have taken to calling “Plucky,” must have been suffering from cold feet, too. After pecking away at the cracked grains beneath where Swings was eating and having spillage from Swings’ mouth shower its feathers, the fearless bird chose to perch on Light’s back.
To a bird’s feet, that must feel like standing on an electric blanket.
Our agenda for the day involves taking Asher up to the lake with us for a single overnight visit in order to meet a contractor tomorrow for a quote on carpentry work, both indoors and out. It’s tricky figuring out what to bring for such a short getaway that will still involve walking a dog in extremely cold temperatures.
We have horse duties covered for tonight and tomorrow morning, but that’s it, so we need to return by dinnertime tomorrow.
Tonight will be a big night for NFL fans as my Minnesota Vikings will be doing battle in Detroit against the Lions in a single-game competition that will determine Division Champion and playoff seeding. It is hard for my tiny mind to perceive that some people will be oblivious to the significance. It’s as if there might be other issues of greater importance in this world.
Not to the 8-year-old boy in me!
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Holiday Socializing
Cyndie and I did the old back-and-forth routine again this Christmas, starting with the hour-long drive to the Cities on Christmas Eve to gather with family from Cyndie’s mom’s side, then returned late to sleep at home. On Christmas morning, we fed the horses (Asher is away at a trainer’s kennel for a week) and then drove back to her mom’s for the classic Friswold breakfast and an opening of gifts exchanged.
From there, we drove home again for a brief rest in the afternoon, which allowed us a chance to feed the horses before driving back to the Cities for food and fun at her brother’s house.
Up past our bedtime for the second night in a row, stuffed beyond sensible with scrumptious foods, and buzzing from the precious energy of socializing with people we love so dearly, we hopped in the car one last time to drive home and crashed into our bed to sleep deeply.
I am ever so grateful that this was the only crashing we experienced because we witnessed some crazy speeding and risky maneuvering occurring on the highways yesterday. No one wishes for a traffic ticket on Christmas, but that doesn’t mean the Highway Patrol should take the day off.
It didn’t appear there was any enforcement in place during our cautious commuting, and some reckless speed demons were taking full advantage. Thankfully, road surfaces weren’t excessively slippery, and no bumpers were bumped throughout our many trips to and fro.
Every last trip was worth it for the treasure of special holiday time with our peeps. For those who love solitude, it provides a healthy reference for how nice it is to return to the calm and quiet of our own homes after periods of intense socializing.
Down in the paddocks, there was some unique social interaction going on between one particular pigeon and the horses and me.
I first noticed it walking around me as I rolled out the wheelbarrow to do some housekeeping under the overhang. It showed up on a fence board as I was sweeping off the placemats under a feed station.
When I arrived to tie a hay bag, the pigeon didn’t move away from its puffed-up position where I wanted to be. So, I took its picture.
Friendly little guy. When I stepped out of the barn with buckets of grain, it was sitting on Swings’ back. After it stayed perched there while Swings walked over to eat, I pulled out my phone to take another photo of the friendly bird.
I was too slow. It had hopped down to see if Swings was sharing any holiday cheer on the placemat below.
The rest of the pigeon flock is much more flighty about the presence of humans, but this one seemed to have no fear. Much as they tend to annoy us for the racket and mess they create, not to mention the temptations they are for Asher, I chose not to shoo this one off.
It was Christmas, after all. That wouldn’t have been in the holiday socializing spirit.
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Bird Dog
In the last couple of weeks, our dog, Asher, has turned into something of a bird dog. It started simply enough one day when a pigeon in the barn underestimated Asher’s speed and jumping ability. As soon as Asher gets prey in his mouth, he executes a perfect “soft carry” and paces around with notable purpose.
Cyndie recognized it right away and let him out of the barn to find a place to bury his prize.
Asher demonstrates a classic nose push to cover his treasure.
Soon after bringing him from his foster family to our home, we discovered Asher’s natural inclination to bury bones that we were hoping would occupy him for hours of gnawing. Asher has mad skill at burying things.
After that first capture, I noticed Asher developed a singular focus on returning to the barn for another chance. When we would head out on an exploratory walk around the property, I could only distract him with my agenda for a few minutes before he redirected our heading toward the barn from any point we were at.
Eventually, I began taking advantage of his compulsion and left him alone in the barn while I accomplished other tasks. He could run to and fro in there and bark while the pigeons flapped around in the rafters. I expected him to get bored with the game, but he’s pretty persistent.
I can’t blame him. His persistence paid off. Of the 18 different breeds identified by his DNA, he seems pretty tuned in on the 16% Labrador Retriever in bird dog skills. Cyndie texted me that Asher got another pigeon. I don’t know how the birds are losing this battle with him, given their wings and the many high perches available to them.
It sounds like the third one he got yesterday afternoon was surprised by the back door entry into the dark barn by Cyndie and the dog. She said she could feel by his actions in the dark that he probably had some critter in his mouth as they walked the length of the barn to reach the light switches.
Sure enough, he caught another pigeon.
We aren’t complaining because the number of pigeons has been increasing exponentially of late, and there is pigeon shit accumulating everywhere, inside and out. However, Cyndie ends up interrupting her horse services to give him a chance to bury the birds. She prefers that he bury them rather than begin devouring them on the spot.
I’m hoping some nighttime predator will dig them up and take the bodies away before Asher ever gets around to remembering that he buried these little bird-dog trophies.
Maybe that 5th breed on the list of his DNA percentages (he’s 6% Chihuahua) will distract him enough from remembering where he buries them. At this point, he seems much more interested in the hunt and the reward of another fresh capture.
His persistence indicates he believes there’s always potential for one more to be snatched.
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Perfectly Wet
Precipitation fell slow and steady all day yesterday, giving us the perfect moisture for growing roots to soak up before the ground has frozen solid for winter.
We didn’t let the shift of clocks back to standard time influence much of our normal routine, but our later morning arrival at the barn seemed to surprise a large rodent. We had entered through the back door, and as I was moving through the darkness toward the light switches, I heard a squeak and noticed Asher hop and twist.
A flip of the switches revealed a rat out in the middle of the floor. I suspect Asher had chomped the poor thing once as it was making no effort to dash for cover. I scooped it up with the manure rake and, after one last bonk to end any suffering, offered the barn pest a hot burial in a compost pile.
Based on the vast network of tunneling occurring in the sand floor, it is easy to assume that there is probably more than just that one culprit lurking about. It is really difficult to discourage unwelcome pests when feeding horses cracked grains that result in endless spillage.
The mares aren’t very fastidious about constraining the leakage from their mouths exclusively within the edges of the mats we put out for that purpose. There are cracked oats and corn scattered far and wide in the vicinity of the barn overhang.
The barn pigeons are in their glory, and the flock has grown to city park proportions with this abundance of food. The rats are probably getting their fair share.
We are employing a variety of attempts at eradication or, at the very least, discouragement to avoid the rats reaching a population approaching the pigeon flocks. Apparently, the neighbor’s cat that regularly prowls our grounds doesn’t put much pressure on rats residing in the barn.
Walking toward the house after chores, I noticed Cyndie chose the grass over the pavement. The wet conditions have left the paddocks muddy, so striding across the grass is a way to wash some of the grime off boots before entering the house.
The moisture was so needed, so perfect; I’m of no mind to complain about a little autumn mud.
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Birdbrain Decision
You’d probably think my preeminent focus on LOVE above all other distractions in life would make February 14th a special day for me. Uh-uh. I generally refer to it in jibes at the marketing of it and other holidays aimed at coercing of consumers to spend their hard-earned sums of money on barely affordable things.
Still, I’m not above throwing out a “Be Mine” to sweethearts or favorite desserts every so often.
Maybe it’s hard for me because I love you all. That’s more cards, chocolates, and flowers than I can manage.
Today, I’m here to report the National Weather Service has issued a Winter Weather Advisory that includes our county and mentions SNOW ACCUMULATION! of 3 to 4 inches overnight tonight. I will not be holding my breath in anticipation, but if it falls and if it accumulates, that would be a welcome change, to say the least.
In preparation, I raked up some of the piles of leaves that had blown around outside the barn and ended up in places I shovel and plow after snowfalls. I hope that didn’t jinx the possibility of us getting a fresh white blanket over our landscape.
I also raked leaves so I could boast that I did so in the month of February. That is a first in my lifetime.
Is that a birdbrain decision? I don’t think so. That’s certainly not why I chose the title for today’s post. No, that comes from the behavior we observe of the pigeons that have chosen our barn overhang as their favorite place to be.
We are not fans. Their flapping and noisy footsteps on the metal roof, incessant cooing, and way too much excrement (on the horse’s placemats of all places!) put barn pigeons on our list of annoyances begrudgingly tolerated.
Recently, we have seen an increase in activity that has me thinking they may not be growing in number as much as I suspected. Their egg-laying decisions don’t seem all that compatible with procreation.
Maybe if it snows they will find the landing a little more forgiving but underfoot where horses are active seems to qualify for what people have come to mean by the term “birdbrain.”
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Relative Something 