Choose your fighter (Image: Archi Banal)
Choose your fighter (Image: Archi Banal)

SocietyNovember 10, 2023

New Zealand cities ranked by pigeon grossness

Choose your fighter (Image: Archi Banal)
Choose your fighter (Image: Archi Banal)

Which place has the stumpiest pigeons? Where are they most scarily aggressive? And why are some cities almost entirely pigeon-free? Asia Martusia King investigates the state of our urban pigeon populations.

A disclaimer before we start: I am fiercely pro-pigeon. Pigeons were our friends and cohabitants for thousands of years – they were domesticated even before dogs – before being cruelly cast aside in the modern era. They are intelligent and loving birds, and it’s our fault that we make them gross.

So can the state of our pigeon populations reflect who we are as a people? I believe the answer is yes, and after years of fervid research, it’s time to share my findings: cities in New Zealand, ranked by pigeon grossness.

During the dark days of lockdown 2021, pigeons were one of few sources of entertainment for Aucklanders (Photo: Phil Walter/Getty Images)

1. Tāmaki Makaurau Auckland

Auckland pigeons are gentle and benign, but have the melancholy of an orphaned Victorian chimney sweep. They look at you with sad, beseeching eyes, eat a cigarette, and then hobble away on stumps.

Why do so many urban pigeons lack feet? A 2018 ecological conservation study of 1,250 Parisian pigeons found that 20% of them were missing at least one toe. They became increasingly mutilated in areas with high noise pollution, air pollution and human density.

Originally, it was posited that the pigeons’ feet were being eroded by their own poo. Pigeon droppings are highly acidic and are known to erode old buildings over time. Nelson’s Column in London was repaired at a cost of NZ$290,000 due to poo-related damage. When scientists remembered that pigeons aren’t columns, they pointed out that standing in your own poo all day is quite unhealthy anyway. A shit-infected leg may develop gangrene and fall off, or develop tumours from bumblefoot. Anti-bird spikes only compound this possibility.

Yet it’s more likely that we, humans, are the cause of stumpy pigeons. The French scientists blame hairdressers. Where there are dense populations of hairdressers, there are lots of loose hairs getting tangled in pigeons. When pigeons try to remove the hair (or other stringy litter), it tightens around their toes, restricting blood flow and causing bits to fall off. In New Zealand terms, it’s just like banding a sheep.

Regardless of legs, Auckland pigeons remain heavily soiled. They are coated in full-body grease. You could put these babies straight into a KFC deep fryer and have a scrumptious snack.

Grossness: 5/5

Auckland pigeons: heavily soiled (Image: Archi Banal)

2. Te Whanganui-a-Tara Wellington

These pigeons aren’t as greasy as Auckland’s, but still on par with the bottom of a hearty kebab. They remind me of scary teenagers at the bus stop. “Oi, mister, can you get us some seed? Give us some seed, yeah? Just a couple of crumbs?” they pester, and then call you a paedo when you don’t.

I once had a pigeon try to land on my head in the Tory Street car park for no reason except menace. They’re crusty and oily, but less so than Auckland’s, more like a girl trying to give up sulphate shampoo. They have many more legs.

Wellington pigeons win for most interesting colour variants. There are grey pigeons, blush pigeons, teal pigeons, and white pigeons, some all mish-mashed together.

Grossness: 3/5

Wellington pigeons: on par with the bottom of a hearty kebab (Image: Archi Banal)

3. Ōtepoti Dunedin

The pigeons here are decadent and gorgeous, but with a dark underbelly.

There are two genres of pigeon in Ōtepoti. The first lead a scavenger lifestyle, subsisting off vape cartridges and student vomit. But there is also what I believe to be a pigeon mafia, the privileged pigeon oligarchy of Dunedin Botanical Gardens.

At the gardens, packets of birdseed are available from the information centre, ostensibly for old people to feed to ducks at the pond. In reality, your waterfowl-directed goodwill is intercepted by a flock of pigeons creeping forward and clicking their fingers ominously in unison.

These pigeons do not fear God. About 15 of them will land on your head at the same time, fighting and scrabbling for seeds. They buffet you with their wings and scratch you with strong, keratin-rich talons. I have left the Dunedin Botanical Gardens with blood streaming down my arms. Mothers were crying. A single child-sized shoe was left in the dust.

I will still feed the Botans pigeons, no matter what the sign tells me. Maybe I kind of like it, like a form of devotional self-flagellation.

Grossness: 1/5 (The vomit-eating is a bit narsty but that’s breathas for you.)

Dunedin pigeons: decadent and gorgeous, but with a dark underbelly (Image: Archi Banal)

Disqualified: Invercargill and Rotorua

Where are they? Where are the pigeons? Nought a coo to be heard.

I consulted a zoologist from Auckland Zoo for intel.

“There’s seagulls everywhere, which may have pushed the pigeons out of their niche,” Ella said, thoughtfully pulling decomposed mice out of a morepork’s food drain. From what I learnt in Year 9 biology, an ecological niche describes how species slot into a particular environment. If an animal doesn’t find favour with an environment’s food and competitors, it will leave, and another species will take its place.

“It’s like pigeon towns versus seagull towns. Rotorua has the biggest colony of black-billed gulls in the North Island. We love an endangered species.”

This isn’t about the seagulls, Ella. There’s a wretched pigeon-shaped hole in the heart of these cities. It must be fixed.

Grossness: N/A

Christchurch pigeons: in tip-top shape (Image: Archi Banal)

4: Ōtautahi Christchurch

Christchurch pigeons are pleasantly average but few in number. Again, seagulls are to blame. Every person I interviewed from Christchurch derailed my story, airing grievances about the seagulls instead.

“Honestly I think the seagulls in Christchurch are worse than the pigeons,” said one resident. “There [are] a whole bunch of them that live in this swampy construction site in the middle of the city and it’s GROSS.”

“Look, I love a seagull. But it’s never ‘a seagull’ is it – it’s a whole gang of them,” said another. “I reckon those black-billed gulls know they’re endangered and can get away with anything. I’d recommend a Christchurch bylaw to cover their unique signifiers with concealer makeup so they can behave like the rest of seagull society.”

When they finally shut up about seagulls, Christchurch residents described pigeons as “friendly” and “pretty chill”, though they lament the “rock dove void”.

Grossness: 0/5 – there aren’t many, but those I saw were in tip-top shape.

Wellington pigeons commandeering Midland Park a few years ago (Photo: Mike Clare/Anadolu Agency via Getty Images)

Final results

Auckland’s pigeons are grossest, as is expected from a large city, with Wellington a runner-up. While coming in at the bottom of the rankings, the judges have decided Christchurch’s pigeon population is too limited to draw conclusive results from, so the least gross pigeon award must go to Dunedin. Congratulations Ōtepoti.

Vote pigeon for Bird of the Century.

‘Help keep The Spinoff funny, smart, tall and handsome – become a member today.’
Gabi Lardies
— Staff writer
Keep going!
Image: Archi Banal
Image: Archi Banal

SocietyNovember 9, 2023

Help Me Hera: Where should I go for my OE?

Image: Archi Banal
Image: Archi Banal

I want to go off into the great beyond. The only question is where.

Want Hera’s help? Email your problem to helpme@thespinoff.co.nz

Dear Hera, 

Like every other 25-year-old, I’m beginning to feel the itch towards the infamous OE. I’ve been in a somewhat-adult job for about two years now and want to feel young and hot and adventurous again, rather than someone who is increasingly gathering neck problems from days of emails and crippling weekend small talk. I have a great flat, a great job in media (asides from the aforementioned emails), and a great network of friends and family, yet this past winter I felt so restless I had to refrain myself from googling “kendall jenner copper hair should I dye” at 2am repeatedly, like a dog hungering for a bone just out of reach. 

I want to go off into the great beyond – the only question is where. Despite my dreams of living in Italy and Spain, it doesn’t really seem like a doable option for an English-speaking office worker. So the choice seems, realistically, between Australia and the UK (sorry Canada, I just didn’t really … get Schitt’s Creek). 

Australia seems great for the day-to-day lifestyle. Lower cost of living (the mangos alone make the move worth it), higher wages, great public transportation (trams!) and wonderful coffee culture. Yet perhaps too similar to New Zealand, and still pretty far from other countries travel-wise. I worry I’d still be stuck in the same yearning rut, though probably wearing a fancy linen suit or something. 

England’s day-to-day lifestyle scares me shitless, to be frank. I’ve heard of friends there for months still unable to find a flat, the wages are low and the weather is dire. Yet the dream it presents is a divine one: popping over to Paris for the weekend, spending a week in Italy on a whim. Can the potential highs justify the potential deep, deep lows? Or is a life of mangoes and finally building a savings account a better one? Should I dye my hair copper? Help me, Hera. 

A line of fluorescent green card suit symbols – hearts, clubs, diamonds and spades

The other day my friend came over to visit, and we had one of those long forensic conversations, where you meticulously catalogue every regret and wrong decision you ever made, castigating yourself for your many failures, and saying if you had the chance to do it all again, you would do it braver, better, wiser, etc 

These conversations have a certain kind of melancholic joy to them. The truth is, it’s fun to have regrets. Morbidly dwelling on the past is an enjoyable way of protecting yourself from the indignities of the present – a kind of self-indulgent emotional procrastination. But one thing both this friend and I both agreed on, is that given a second chance, we would both get the hell out of here. 

I do love this dumb, expensive, geographically-isolated country, but I genuinely don’t understand how anyone young and creative can afford to live in a nation of negligent, ageing landlords, dwindling housing stock, rising food prices and bargain basement wages. It was bad when I was in my early twenties, and it’s even worse now. I’m sure there are other countries out there which aren’t much better. But most of the people I know who left the country early have better prospects, higher salaries and can afford to live somewhere which A) doesn’t cost half their weekly paycheck and B) doesn’t have a flourishing colony of black mould on their bathroom walls. And we haven’t even had the first term of the new government yet. Unless you’re the CEO of a dairy manufacturing plant, it’s unlikely your standard of living will improve soon. 

You’re on the verge of a huge decision, but I also think there are some choices in life you shouldn’t take too seriously! Sometimes you have to go with your gut feeling, and see how it turns out. You can calculate the odds, make meticulous spreadsheets, browse endless expat subreddits, but in the end, you won’t really know what to expect, until you step off the plane with your suitcase. 

There will be downsides to almost every country you move to, and many of the downsides you won’t even know until you get there. I’m not saying this to depress you. I’m saying that, in a world of imperfect choices, you might as well go for the most exciting, daring and potentially thrilling option. There will be plenty of time to lower your expectations later. 

You say your dream is to go to Italy or Spain, but it doesn’t seem possible. But I wonder if that’s true? I don’t know anything about the brutal realities of emigrating, but if you would prefer that to England, maybe it’s worth doing a little more research? Both Italy and Spain offer digital nomad visas, which could be an option, depending on the kind of work you do.

I know everyone hates digital nomads, but having aspirations to move to a different country and make a life there vs terrorising the coffee shops of Lisbon with your incessant Zoom meetings are two hopefully different things. Or you could always work as a seasonal strawberry picker or haunted house extra while you got to grips with the language. 

‘He mea tautoko nā ngā mema atawhai. Supported by our generous members.’
Liam Rātana
— Ātea editor

Personally I like Australia: the terrifying birds, the weird tree smells, the women in truckstop cafes who call you darling, the simmering undercurrent of violence. But it seems like that’s both the option you’re least excited about, and the easiest choice, which makes it a great fallback. If your dreams of Italy don’t work out, you can always move to Melbourne afterwards, and ride the trams and eat mangoes to your heart’s content. Or you could move to the UK, and live literally anywhere that wasn’t London. 

No matter what you do and where you end up, there will probably be some regret for the lives you didn’t choose. You have a lot of bad decisions to make before you’ve earned the right to luxuriously bemoan them. So you might as well have the best regrets possible, while air travel is still possible, or before fate intervenes and you accidentally fall in love with an Icelandic national, and have to move to a small coastal fishing village to solve murders. 

There are plenty of good things to regret, but I never regretted dying my hair an ugly colour, and I never regretted seeing the world. As long as you have enough savings for an emergency plane fare home, and some kind of health insurance, you should be OK. Even if it all goes horribly wrong, and you end up working in a haunted motel in Doncaster, you’ll be able to look back at it all in fond exasperation one day.

So buy a plane ticket, dye your hair a lurid, Kendall Jenner copper, and get the hell out of here, while there’s still time. 

(If any busybody with a good/dreadful emigration experience wants to write in with tips, warnings or ancient prophecies, I can pass them on.) 

Want Hera’s help? Email your problem to helpme@thespinoff.co.nzRead the previous Help Me Heras here.