‘I realised I’d made a terrible mistake.’ Composite: Guardian design; FrankhuangNicolas;Moreau/Getty Images View image in fullscreen ‘I realised I’d made a terrible mistake.’ Composite: Guardian design; FrankhuangNicolas;Moreau/Getty Images The pest I’ll never forget Birds The pest I’ll never forget: the relentless pigeon who stared and stared and ruined my spring A living room encounter with a toast-loving pigeon proved a big mistake. It led to weeks of drawn curtains and crawling around on the floor to avoid its eerie and unerring gaze
Morwenna Ferrier Tue 13 Oct 2026 08.00 CEST Last modified on Tue 13 Oct 2026 09.23 CEST Share Prefer the Guardian on Google T he pigeon landed on the windowsill. It was shortly after dawn during the spring holidays, but I was 11 and had been up for a while eating toast and watching TV. It pecked at the window and I turned to see this bird pressed up against the glass. It was beautiful, with two dark wing bars and a navy-tipped tail. I was immediately taken with him. It wasn’t until later that I realised he wasn’t just looking inside, he was looking directly at me.
Pigeons are not that common in Somerset, and since we lived on the top floor of a house in a quiet village, our view was mostly sky, so we had come to really value sightings of them. We were having a run of beautiful mornings, and I enjoyed watching its peculiar rituals through the sash windows. The way he moved across the sill, his small dark doll’s eyes, his slightly unnatural head tilt, the way he seemed to know where he was. We certainly didn’t see pigeons as pests. Nor did we see them as threats.
I paused the TV and slowly eased open the sash window to see what would happen. The pigeon didn’t move. I was still holding my toast so I broke off a corner and tossed it on to the sill. He picked it up with his beak. “Hello, Percy,” I said, and he looked up at me.
The next morning, Percy flew down just before breakfast. Once again, I opened the window and gave him some toast. This time, though, he hopped off the outside sill and on to the inside one. I can’t remember if I was shocked or delighted, perhaps both. I do remember we held eye contact for longer than seemed normal.
Then I heard my mother coming along the corridor. I quickly tried to shoo Percy out but he dodged me and hopped on to the log basket. After flapping around the room for a few seconds he flew back outside. My mother called me into the kitchen, so I got up. But as I turned back, I saw the pigeon still there, still looking at me. He was holding the crust, but not eating it. I suddenly realised I had made a terrible mistake.
Read more The next morning, he appeared again. This time I didn’t open the window. He remained where he was. I sat with my back to him and I could see his outline reflected on the screen, solid and motionless. He pecked at the glass, then eventually flew off. The next morning, again. And then again. After a few days, I stopped going into the living room. But he kept coming.
For the rest of the week, I would find my mind drifting towards the pigeon. Small tasks seemed impossible. I would begin conversations but find myself losing the thread halfway through, all thoughts returning to Percy. Realising I had to confront things, I walked slowly down the landing, passing the bathroom window, then my sister’s bedroom window, until I reached the living room doorway. I got down on to my knees and peered carefully around the door frame. If he was there and I wa…