Of pigeons and starlings

My maternal grandmother once told me, very confidentially,  that birds, because they sing so beautuifully and because they have wings and can fly, were the angels that we read about in the Bible. I cannot remember exactly how old I was when she imparted this secret knowledge to me but, what I do remember, is that around the age of four, when I had found my first dead bird, that Grandma's theory starting puzzling me. I might have seen dead birds before that incident but, it was at around four years old that I understood what "dead" really meant. Japie, the Rhodesian ridgeback that my parents had when I was born and whom had become my great friend and protector, had died suddenly and, I knew that he was dead, because my mother had explained death to me.

But, when I first registered that birds also could die I became mightely puzzled. If little children had to die and go to heaven to become angels and then visit us as little birds, why dit they have to die again? When I asked my mother if angels could die, this thoroughly modern woman first of all informed me that there were no such things as angels and heaven, and secondly, even if there were, that nothing could die twice. According to her, death was a once off and final event - period.

Not only had I  encountered my first dead bird that day but I also had my first face to face encounter with the first conflict that two vastly different truths can evoke. When my mother then asked me why I had  asked the question I simply replied with a non-committal "just".  Even at that age I realised that there could be great potential for tension when two truths had to be considered. So, I opted for accepting that both truths could co-exist and I walked off, keeping the peace between two very feisty women.

But, accepting two truths did not keep me from spending a lot of time, collecting, examining and burying the inert bodies of grandmother's angels – mostly pigeons and starlings - who had become the victims of road accidents. In the street where we lived there was at least one death a day and often, driving with my mother, we accidently would hit a pigeon or starling that did not fly up fast enough or, sometimes. these aves would fly directly into the car’s windscreen or radiator.

When I started driving, I too had a few collisions with angels. I remember, in particular, one hot sumer afternoon in Commissioner Street in Johannesburg’s CBD. In quite heavy traffic and going slow, the car connected two pigeons which were either too slow or too interested in whatever they were scavenging off the road.

I stopped, got out and found one pigeon dead and the other still flapping its wings. I took the mortally injured pigeon in my hand and I felt it trembling with pain and fear. Its one red-rimmed eye looked straight at me. Was it accusing me or begging me? I hesitated but then looked away and wrung its neck.

I remember vividly the sudden urge to void both my bowel and bladder. Also, and, as a consequence (and for several nights thereafter), just before I fell asleep I recalled every detail of that “mercy killing” incident and wanted to throw up.

One eventually rationalizes such an incident and the memory is only brought forth when one sees a pigeon dead in the road. But that doesn't happen that often anymore. Despite that fact that we are blessed to live at high altitude and in a city which has the world’s highest number of trees per square kilometer, as well as the highest number of bird species of any other city, it is rare, nowadays, to find a dead bird in the road. And, surprisingly, both the bird and car populations of this city have increased dramatically over the decades.

Waking up in the city of Johannesburg is a sight for green eyes.

So how come there are more birds but less feathered ones dead on the tarmac?

The answer: Darwin.

The pigeon and starling populations of Johannesburg are perfect examples of how the theory of natural selection is at work in living - and observed - bird species. Those birds which were too slow and not adapted to city life 50 years got taken out and, therefore, had fewer descendents in each generation. In my opinion the city's slicker and auto savvy birds that remain and flourish are offspring of the alert fast ones that easily could take to the sky long before a vehicle was upon them. Now and again the odd genetic throwback still dives into a car and probbaly dies with few or no individuals sharing its behavioural disadvantage. The reality is that in 2012 there are dramatically fewer road deaths involving birds than in 1962.

A very common bird in Johannesburg : The "Hadeda" or Sacred Ibis

But I still remember that hot summer afternoon in Commissioner Street as if it had happened yesterday. And even now, on a hot Johannesburg day like today, the memory evokes a distinct feeling of nausea and, I wonder if Darwin's process of natural selection, as I write, is selecting for or against killing angels?