(G2)
13-06-2025
Dear second.garden
I know this is a blog for plant lovers and compost romantics, not a confessional hotline, but I come to you with a problem that is stock in my mind.
It’s about pigeons. Specifically, my rediscovered hate for them. Is it okay to hate pigeons? I mean really dislike them—while still believing in biodiversity?
I was comforted reading Richards confession about throwing snails away. It gave me the courage to write this. While his garden was attacked from below, mine is under attack from above. I’ve been lucky that my garden lives on the 2nd floor of a building in Paris. No snails here.
When I started building my garden I scrolled endlessly on LeBonCoin, texting strangers about terracotta pots and dying balcony plants. A girl named Momo sold me a beautiful raspberry plant. She was leaving France, and there was a dramatic moment where she hesitated to hand over her green child to me. Maybe she sensed I wasn’t ready. Maybe she knew… about the pigeons.
I carried those plants like holy offerings on the metro. People smiled. I smiled back. Life was green.
Then they came. Pigeons.
Big, soft, city-hardened beasts with the swagger of street cats and the libido of Roman emperors.
They didn’t just visit they moved in and built nests in my biggest pot. Tried to start families. One morning I woke up to the unmistakable sound of pigeon lovemaking just outside my window. I saw. stuff I will not share here because it wasn’t nice,
I tried everything: sticks, scare tactics, even put a teddybear looking like a big dog. Nothing worked. I read they’re obsessive. I believe it. Eventually, I strung rope everywhere, transforming my balcony into a post-apocalyptic pigeon-proof fortress. It kept them out—but also kept out the joy.
Now my garden is quiet. Too quiet.
I miss the little pollinators I hoped would come. Instead, I have rope, suspicion, and the faint memory of winged intrusions.
I know pigeons are technically part of nature. I know they’re living creatures and not sky-rats. But do I have to like them?
Richard had snails, his mother-in-law had a killing stone. I have birds that make eye contact and try to seduce each other on my achillea.
Where does that leave me?
I’d love to hear if others feel conflicted too. Can we be environmentalists and still choose sides? Or must we love all creatures, even the feathered exhibitionists?
With love
Julien’s garden in Paris.
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