The dove is a symbol of peace and the departed soul, one of the earliest companions of man, revered as " divine messengers". Somewhere along the way, the Victorians loved them and bred them until they weren't fashionable anymore, which is why the feral pigeon is so diverse in plumage. And despite mistreatment they still stick around the toxic human race. Love is passed down the line. 

The word "hero" was thrust upon the carrier pigeon as he was called up to the MI14 Pigeon Service in the 1940s. Huge casualties. 32 pigeons - that's more than cats, dogs and even horses - have been awarded the Dickin Medal for their courageous deeds, which is the animal equivalent of the Victoria Cross. Man owes his life to the pigeon. It interests me that Animal Aid have swapped the Purple Poppy to a paw, so it fails to recognise horses or pigeons who lost their lives.

Then, in the 1980s Woody Allen sneeringly dismissed the pigeon as the "flying rat". It all goes a bit bloody downhill from there really. Pigeon spikes. Getting kicked to death. Chased. Abused. These beautiful, highly intelligent birds...  If they are neglected its a fortunate day for them.

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My documentary style was influenced by William Eggleston, and my poem is in response to the 2nd stanza of this beautiful poem, Valentine for Ernest Mann, on perspective and seeing beauty where others only see ugliness. It is also based on a personal observation that society treats these birds based on a name and plumage. The pure white Dove and mucky, motley-feathered feral pigeon are the same bird. Yet one is idolised and the other is shunned. Ask yourself, why? 

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