There are eight pigeons living on my shed roof. That itself is a small victory: it has taken two years, 60 metres of anti-bird mesh, daily patrolling for and disposing of eggs and countless hours running around waving a rake to get them out of the shed. They nested in our hay, ruining the top row of bales. They pooed on everything. When we purchased this property, we inherited piles of guano half a foot deep. We haven’t yet relaxed enough to remove the drop cloths.
Now the pigeons are sitting on the eaves, clogging up the gutters (which also supply our drinking water) with poo, and pooing in the stock troughs. When my horse was hospitalised with gastroenteritis, I blamed the pigeons until my vet said that while they do carry salmonella (wonderful!), Mickey would likely be much sicker if he’d caught something from them.
