A necessary but troubling pigeon crisis has erupted in our barn. The pigeons have taken over the upstairs hay storage area, bred continuously, covered the floor with droppings, and smashed the windows that keep the storage area dry and usable.

Snow came in during the winter and rain this Spring and Summer.

The barn is in danger if this continues. Breeding may occur during all seasons for pigeons, but peak reproduction occurs in the spring and fall. A population of pigeons usually consists of equal numbers of males and females. Pigeons mate year-round, but most of the 5 to 6 broods per year are raised during the spring and summer when temperatures are above freezing.

I was lax about leaving the pigeons alone to breed; we both enjoyed seeing them breed and fly around the farmhouse. I knew better.

Regarding animals, we are a place of life, a peaceable kingdom. Sometimes, we must kill animals when they get painfully ill or near death, but most of the time, it is a joy to share our lives with them, birds included.

I enjoyed watching the sunrise with Fred, a pigeon who always appeared when I did in the morning, and watched the sunrise with me. He’s gone.

We knew we would have to do something about the pigeons eventually; we didn’t focus on it or want to face it; we kept putting it off. We have a barn cat now, and Zip wasted no time going after the pigeons (Minnie and Flo kept the pigeons and the nests out of the barns), or the damage upstairs would be severe. Rain is already blowing in and staining the floors.

Zip knew what to do without being asked. Zip is tough and fast.

He went right after the pigeons; there is a score of them in the barn. I think he even climbed a ladder and got upstairs. They’ve been gone all day and yesterday; I doubt they will return.

In one day, Zip routed the pigeons and threatened two nests and we discovered this morning that only one pigeon remained in the barn, the mother of the two babies.

She has already moved the two to the other side of the barn and refused to flee as the others have. Pigeon mothers are well known for their loyalty to their offspring.

She isn’t running from Zip or us as the others have.

The mother somehow got her two squabs out of the side of the barn where Zip lives (photo above). We found them trembling and terrified when Maria climbed upstairs to clean out the storage area and also take the window out to repair the glass and cover it with a tough cloth from the inside.

There is a space for the mother to get downstairs and help her offspring and for the three of them to escape. She’s moving around frantically, and we don’t want to further upset her by trying to take her picture. She’s staying close while all the other pigeons have fled.

Zip is already earning his keep; he will get to all three of them if he can, but the squabs look ready to fly; their wings are whole and strong. The mother is heroic for staying with them through this pigeon battle, but we can’t and shouldn’t guarantee that Zip won’t get to her or them. Nature is relentless; feathers are everywhere, and it has to take its course.

We will respect the mother and give her the time and chance to get away with her babies.

Once again, I acknowledge Maria’s strength and courage in climbing up that ladder with her drills and screws, getting the window out and down, and repairing the broken glass. It’s not fun or easy work. As usual, she declined my offer to hire someone to do it.

In the struggle with Zip, one pigeon smashed right through a downstairs pane. We’re going to fix that ourselves, also. There isn’t much Maria won’t take on when it comes to caring for the farm and its animals.

I kept saying how grateful I was to live alongside her, which sometimes seemed patronizing and unnecessary. She is just supporting the love she loves and doesn’t want or need praise. To her, she’s just doing her share. She loves the farm and is happy to care for it, I respect that also.

I’m eager to get the pigeons out of there, but I admire the mother; she is ready to sacrifice herself rather than give up on her offspring.