How to Work with Bird Medicine
5 Valuable Lessons from Pigeons
“The line separating Good and Evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either — but right through every living pigeon on Earth.”
— Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn's Uncle
The Native Americans believe that organisms are born with medicine inside (like Intel, but different). Their spirit has a teaching, a potential healing power. Since, most of us don’t live close to nature, the power of birds is often lost on us, and in many cases birds are frowned upon as inferior creatures, deemed nothing more than a nuisance. But au contraire! Little observation will inform you that these animals are in fact sovereign surviving procreating feathered beauties, that thrive, eat, and sing whilst struggling daily with the unforgiving forces of nature. Where we humans depart the nest after about 18 years, a young bird is independent after a mere month. It spreads its wings, and just takes off into the blue sky. Next to this brilliant feat, the bird has its own knowing, and a very sensitive nervous system to read its environment. These senses have been sharpened by millions of years of evolution, a survival of the fittest, where environmental threats have to be detected to maximize survival. Pigeons function like a mirror for our own states of being, reflecting where humans are not at peace with themselves.
What things can we learn from this feathered mirror?
Here follow my main reflections from apprenticing with the Bird Medicine.
Preface
I’ve been up close with birds, especially urban pigeons for about 6 months or so. I feed them daily and I maintain a very intimate connection. Pigeons, I name, draw, and a dozen of them fly on my shoulders and hands when I present seeds. How did this come about? During my monthly nightly mushroom trips, which I use as my main shamanic practice, I got into contact with the Great Bird Spirit who named me Father Rooster. During this journey I deeply understood my spirit is a bird. This is not only a cognitive understanding, but also a bodily experience. Most of my trips involve periods where I need to crawl under the blankets and incubate, like a little unborn bird in an egg. I can feel blood flowing to parts of my body as if somebody was pumping up my wings. This might be hard to believe, but I honestly tell you this is how my heroic doses usually go.
After I understood I was partially bird, naturally I connected with my feathered brethren. This mainly manifested itself by feeding them seeds, grains, and nuts on the town square. The pigeons were very invitational and encouraged me to nurture them. After a month I noticed their behavior had changed and they started hovering around me. The next day I held the first pigeon eating from my hand. For another month only this specific pigeon would perch on me. But the birds watch each other and learn. And after this pigeon died (yes, it lay dead one day in the middle of the square), others acquired the trick. And since, I just love to hang out with them.
This is how I started working with pigeons.
Once you have them so close on and around you, you are in the perfect position to observe. They’ll show you all kinds of things. The experience is quite intense. Not because of the birds but because of humans. Here, in my town in the Netherlands, I get binary experiences. Either I receive ecstatic people around me who want to connect to me and love the bird. Or, I get trolls (people) jumping at me from blind spots and try to stop me from bird interactions. My latest take is that it somehow triggers people really badly. The close relationship with birds, I believe, reminds them of lost parts of their own soul. The bird stands symbol for observing, freedom, adulthood, sovereignty and peace. But the truth might be even darker. These people unconsciously know, that in their current condition, a bird would never want to perch on them. (more on this later)
This ties in nicely with Mircea Eliade’s research on shamanism. The anthropologist discerns a globally prevalent ‘ascent’-motif during the initiation stages of a shaman. This takes shape in rituals high on bird symbolism representing the medicine man growing his own spiritual wings —often involving climbing trees and ladders — to become an independent sovereign mind with the power to see from the celestial point of view. There is probably no other way of understanding such a soul level change other than through Bird imagery. Psycho-Neurological talk won’t ever be able to tell the story and experience. Bird is language. Kids innately understand this as they are half animals and thus love to watch animal cartoons.
Lessons from Rock Pigeons
1. Boundaries, Sensitivity and Trustworthiness
The pigeon is very sensitive. I often see them register a threat and I have no clue what they saw or heard, but they’re suddenly gone. Birds are quite jumpy. And one activating its flight response will induce it in others. They are attuned like that and will fly away in a flock.
But this sensitivity comes in play when you want one on your hand. It will only work if you have a decent level of calmness about you. Pigeons are allergic to frantic, nervous, and unpredictable people and will think twice about perching. When people approach me whilst I’m feeding, I often put some seeds in their hand to try let one eat out of their hand. Since the birds trust me, I can often ‘transfer’ them from my hand to a stranger. But it only works half the time. The pigeon makes the judgement call. Sometimes they jump on, and other times they will crawl back on my shoulder and you can hear them think: uh, uh. No, no. Not him/her. Most of the time, I’m not surprised by their choices. Open, gentle, and honest people have no problems receiving a bird. But folk with unclear intentions birds don’t trust. Kids not excluded. Pigeons know how to assess character. They are a great mirroring tool for cultivating inner peace.
Better put, the pigeon is the canary in the coal mine of the human heart. Carrying one will inform you on who is sick and how is healthy (spiritually). The healthy will want to share in the experience and hold a pigeon themselves. The sick will shun, frown upon, or even attack the carrier. The light can be too strong for trolls and they'll disturb any kind of friendly bird practice.
2. Discerning, Naming and Introducing
Touché Montague! Names do have power. The Japanese are very good with this, and know words for things we have no words for. It allows them to discern better. Deeper. For similar reasons people read complete dictionaries. This magic of naming runs parallel with consciousness and understanding. As soon as you’ve given a good label, one discerns, and cuts deeper into reality. Naming enables the ability to change or manipulate the world.
Pigeons reflect this magic. When I see an interesting bird I take a picture of it. Later at home I might draw it and give it a name based on whatever makes it unique. Magically, the next day they will perch on me for the first time. I’ve experienced this a dozen times. Exactly like Steven Spielberg’s short story “The Mission” (1985).
Naming is the fruition of properly seeing the bird. Once it has its name, it feels respected and seen. Only then the pigeon receives the proper attention and greeting, fostering intimate relationships. To the ignorant onlooker who underestimates the bird, this phenomenon appears quite illusive. But human-human interactions are similar. If you do not know somebody’s name, you’ll stay strangers and no intimate interactions will evolve. Literally, they’ll remain a ‘some body’. To be named is to be loved.
The medicine is simply to observe, notice the features, and discern these seemingly similar birds as true individuals giving each one a unique and fitting name.
3. Trauma and Transcendence
Pigeons are either loved or get kicked around by humans. Some negative behaviors are ingrained in the culture and are accepted as normal. On the street parents teach their children to scare, stamp at, and frighten pigeons as soon as the child can walk. This behavior is highly prevalent in the Netherlands, and presumably in other Western societies as well. Some folks have little unconscious circuits running in their brain that unconsciously brush a bird away. Sitting outside at a cafe this adverse pigeon culture can be easily observed, expressed by kicks and hand brushes, or a general fear of pigeons.
I feel very disturbed by this behavior and culture but birds remain unfazed by these negative acts committed against them. This surprised me, and I wondered why. The answer lies, in part, in their flight capability. Birds have the sky domain to elevate their bodies to away from miserable situations. Whatever awful shit happens on the ground, they are not tethered to its cruelty and can transcend it anytime. This sounds very basic, but birds harness the superior form of safety. It is said, about humans, that in case of traumatic events, the body remains on Earth but their soul takes flight and escapes. This is referred to as soul loss, and these spirit fragments need to be recovered later in life through the shamanic journeying practice of soul retrieval.
An incredible story from Carl Jung’s early work describes a young woman who believed she lived on the Moon. Jung told her to return back to Earth, and she eventually did. The woman harboured early childhood trauma and her soul had escaped even beyond the limits of the bird realm.
Many times it has occurred that whilst I'm feeding pigeons, people get especially triggered and may chose the attack to stop any bird loving activity. For instance the other day I was feeding on the street, when a butcher who had his shop there came out and made an aggressive clap to scare all the pigeons away. I went inside to say that I wasn't really fond of this style of behavior. And though I could understand he'd rather not have pigeons near his shop, he could have just used words and a friendly manner. After the fact I could only conclude that this was just one of those pigeon kicking children who had matured (in the physical sense). Feeding birds either enchants or disturbs folks vehemently. Butchers in particular.
4. Pecking Order & Unworthiness
Pigeons fight over food. There’s not enough of it, especially not enough nourishing natural seeds. So, who’s gonna get it? The strongest fighters. These are the dominant, smart, and fearless birds that are able to secure territory (perches) and are able to repel competitors. This is on one hand a physical feat, i.e. stronger, smarter, bigger, faster, more aggressive birds have the advantage. The top pigeon pecks down on its competitors and these birds peck further down the chain. This instills a psychological dominance preventing lower birds from accessing edible resources.
I have seen lower pigeons leave seeds in the absence of higher birds. They simply won’t eat high quality delicious sunflower seeds right under their nose, because culture informed them it’s not theirs to have. Hence, they feel unworthy of it. Think about that. It’s like leaving a free $100 bill on the table. Some just won’t grab it.
But a dominant bird will slap other pigeons in the eyes with its wings. Impress them, by standing tall. And if the competition doesn’t respect, they will pinch their beak into others' necks and push them off the perch. In Pigeonland this is called ‘perching rights’ and once it is established, it is barely challenged. The vital resources have been secured for the top pidge.
Evolutionary these dominance genes are promoted. Dominant pigeons own the resources, hatch eggs, feed their babies and continue to proliferate.
5. Clawstring
Most common dis-ease with pigeons is strings wrapped around their claws. Over time the threads get tighter, and eventually tourniquet the claw into necrosis and amputation. The bird is eventually left with missing a toe or an entire foot, disabling it for life if it remains untreated.
Frequently I catch a limping bird to treat it by carefully cutting away the strings. A bird can best be caught by initiating a feeding frenzy. If enough birds stampede over a quick unload of a handful of quality peanuts, they get distracted properly. Especially when the wings cross over, inhibiting the target pigeon's field of vision, that is the moment to pin it down.
The threads can embedded deeply into the tissue, and in some cases the damage is irreversible. Using a small pair of nail scissor with a bended blade will do the job. One might need the help of a second, who can either cut or hold the pigeon, as some are too hard to control with a single hand.
I'm positive that some birds now know I do this and they present themselves to be cut. Though they need the aid, they won't let themselves be caught easily. When I do catch the patient pigeon, the others birds don't fly away, but curiously watch the surgery take place.
First I was afraid to traumatize pigeons like this, but that's not the case. After the initial shock, they'll re-establish regular contact the very next day, though they might need a few peanuts first to fully trust you again.
So what's the lesson? What if this is all one great metaphor for trauma. How one is knowing one needs help, but still remains afraid of dealing with the pain and an open wound, caused in the past. The old thread is closely tied around some of our most fragile parts, and might need the help of another to get removed. That requires a lot of trust. Yikes. Pigeons are very brave. And with any trauma, one has to have an eye for spotting it. Clawstring usually goes unnoticed, and even if spotted and diagnosed, remains untreated.
One time I sat on a bench with a big pigeon in my hands and asked the girl next to me if she could cut. She felt very unsure of herself and hesitantly said, "But I don't know how to do it."
Neither do I.
Reflections
These were a few of my personal experiences with Rock Pigeons. Birds have much more to teach though. The lessons I received were selected for me. Applying Bird Medicine is a subjective art and teachings shall vary across people and one’s openness. The ones highlighted here can definitely be identified with patient observation. The rest is left to the practitioner. What will (s)he see personally?
The Bird is merely the mirror.
Sources
- Archaic Techniques of Ecstasy — Mircea Eliade, 1951
- Soul Retrieval — Sandra Ingerman, 2011
- Moon Girl — Carl Jung, 1934
- The Mission — Steven Spielberg, 1985
- Pigeon Photography and Art — Bitcoin Graffiti, 2024
