For just ten days, this humble servant of your weekly Punyalada has been a happy new resident of Barcelona's Call. For now, the spirits of Sant Sever and Santa Eulàlia (who is recovering from her wounds right next to my house) are a guarantee of peace and tranquility, and it is a magnificent pleasure to go to Manuel Ribé square to try the delicious infusions that Antonio serves at Chaj Tai, taste the wonderful Tzatziki and octopus Hummus at Bistro Levante, clear your head on Saturdays dreaming of a chocolate croissant from La Colmena and travel with the cart to Santa Caterina, a privilege that has only been slightly clouded by the presence of a plague that Barcelona has tried to get rid of thousands of times with relative success: I am talking about pigeons, namely, the animal known as Columba livia that populates the center of Plaza de Catalunya and many streets of the Gòtic and the Eixample.
Let's be clear and straightforward: the pigeon ---whether forest, domestic or even wild--- is one of those creatures of the lord that does not contribute much to city life. Its cooing is an alarm clock that (at six something in the morning) would not be the best way to start the day. Its methodical existence basically consists of defecating on most of our venerable architectural heritage, on neighborhood balconies and, if one is born to have bad luck in life, in the middle of the cranial rooftop.
Apologists for animal life and nostalgics who have traveled to Antarctica to emulate the first Greenpeace heroes will argue that the pigeon represents a form of life to be respected, the symbol of peace, a granivorous animal that, if its morals are not excessively touched, is not aggressive with anyone. To all of them, fellow citizens, I invite you to come to my balcony, a true homage to Jackson Pollock.
Apologists for animal life and nostalgics who have traveled to Antarctica to emulate the first Greenpeace heroes will argue that the pigeon represents a form of life to be respectedEliminating pigeons from Barcelona would not represent any danger to this species, which would reign without any problem in the forests of many places on the planet. Without pigeons, our already quite ugly Plaza Catalunya would be, at least, a minimally passable placein which the Barcelona native should not close his eyes when crossing it, commending himself to the Holy Spirit, if he does not want to reach his destination with a good splash of shit adorning his fringe.
Evidently, I would not want to devise a kind of animal Treblinka in which the unfortunate pigeons were gassed or liquidated according to the savage whim of a sniper. It would be enough to prohibit people from continuing to feed them, sterilize them with some trick that our ethologists must know well, and, if necessary, their disappearance could be compensated with a sculpture-tribute, a square, or even a farewell performance at the CCCB.
Barcelona without pigeons would be a better city; in its parks (the interior gardens of the Gothic Quarter, as is the case of my house or the Romantic Garden of the Ateneu) we would still be able to enjoy many species of birds that have a much more pleasant vocal symphony than that of the current flying rats that make our lives a little more unpleasant and pestilent. Surely this proposal will provoke an angry response from some animal protection society or some spirit that would be deeply offended by the disappearance of pigeons, because we already know that in our tribe any living being or even object has its federation of defenders and the grievance over any trifle is part of one of our favorite national sports. To all of them, now that we have enough tables, chairs, and sheets at home, I invite them —however many there may be— to spend a single night in my home or to help me restore my windows.
I don't know if the exile of Barcelona's pigeons would provoke the tears of our mayor and the understanding of the ceramist Jordi Cuixart, but I can assure you that it would make the lives of citizens much easier. When we are in the forest, do not doubt it, we will compensate for having driven away the animals from our beloved city, if necessary, with an authentic feast for lions. I propose.
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