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https://www.theracoppens.nl/artikelen/betoverd/65-betoverd-door-duiventillen.html

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Lone Star Swan strode past Panchita's, a baby pigeon huddled to his breast. He reached his destination, then lifted the bird to his face; its feathers were black, like the headband corralling Swan's mop of white hair.

"These are advanced human beings," Swan said of the hundreds of pigeons fidgeting around him. "These are ancient wizards that decide to reincarnate in something without hands, so man couldn't put him to work."

John Ratliff, also known as " Lone Star Swan," "Swan," "Saint Swan" and "The Birdman," was an award-winning journalist and poet when, in 1972, he began experiencing psychotic episodes. Eventually schizophrenic and unhoused, he made the Mission's 16th Street his home, and its pigeons his flock. On Monday, Feb. 7, he died at 3:15 p.m. from sepsis and aspiration pneumonia at Sutter Health Alta Bates Medical Center. He was 81.

For decades, he had been a neighborhood character, adored, ignored and watched over by a slew of locals, many connected with Adobe Books. Twice he was depicted in murals by Daniel Doherty, a Clarion Alley Mural Project artist. In one, he sits with seeds in outstretched hands, birds swirling around him; in the other, he's stooped at Adobe Books, a vigilant pigeon flying over his head.

Strangers and Mission locals helped him. Sometimes, Swan rebuffed attempts to get off the streets because he couldn't live without the birds; he kept feeding them outside his window, pissing off neighbors and violating building rules, a 2019 Mission Local article recounted.

"I'm doing what I feel I must do," Swan said in the 2002 documentar y he starred in. "I guess I'm happy. I'm doing what I'm damn well gonna do."

John Ratliff, the Birdman, sits on a bench on 16th and Mission Streets, watching the birds peck rice off the cement in San Francisco, on October 28, 2016. By Julio Marcial.

Early Life of John Ratliff

Swan was born in Poteet, Texas, on Aug. 31, 1940 to Rev. Henry Ratliff and Margaret Sale Ratliff. He was the eldest of seven children.

His father's ministry led the family all over: Massachusetts, Tennessee, New Hampshire. "We were best buddies, but he was a teasing tyrant," his sister Catherine said.

Swan was "very smart" and graduated in 1958, a year early, from Seymour High School in Wisconsin, where he already was a prolific poet. His sister said he had a strong-willed reputation, and learned to perfect an imitation of Elvis Presley to win over the girls.

He then went to Texas for a semester at Southern Methodist University, where he studied English. He served four years in the U.S. Navy and received an honorable discharge, and spent a year at the private Lutheran college Augustana University in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, where he met his future wife, Mary Overdahl. The two traveled to San Francisco and stayed for a year, partying among the hippies, Catherine said.

Swan returned to South Dakota to pursue journalism, and in 12 years he churned out more than 2,000 works and a dozen documentaries. He worked at the United Press International from 1965 to 1969, and simultaneously at the local Sioux Falls station KELO-TV from 1966 to 1969.

From 1969 to 1972, the job took him to news station WICS-TV in Springfield, Illinois, where Swan met a lifelong friend, Roger Wolfe. The pair often shot for each other on 16-millimeter film and grabbed lunch, when Swan would share his "unique perspective," Wolfe recalled. Soon, Swan snagged a position as a filmmaking instructor at Sangamon State University, and worked on films or commercials that sometimes starred his children. He also completed educational freelance work for the State of Illinois; one 95-page script included scenes of monsters, knights and dancing.

Panelists noticed the quality. The San Francisco Film Festival, in 1974, awarded his documentary "SAM," a 20-minute film that focused on an epileptic runner in the Special Olympics. He also won the United Press International Competition and an Associated Press Sweepstakes award in 1970.

Swan married Overdahl in 1964 and they had four children, David, Charles, Krissa and Casey. His children remembered him as a remarkable father who instilled in them a love of writing, gave them coffee, and taught them gambling lessons. He and Overdahl wrote a lullaby that he sang nightly to the kids: "All the world spins around like an apple/on a tree that is painted blue/the sun, she'll be back tomorrow/with a bright shining smile for you."

By 1972 the schizophrenic episodes began, and violent tendencies followed. For a two-week period, Swan held the family hostage on a farm; the kids gnawed on corn, and Overdahl's weight dropped to 85 pounds, she said in a two-part documentary " Schizophrenia." In 1973, Overdahl took her children and separated from Swan. They officially divorced in 1977.

Each child would visit their father only a few more times in his life. "Us kids were very important to dad. It just broke his heart, when all the calamities came to a head," said David, who is now a 57-year-old chess coach in Minnesota.

Months before Swan's death, his children discovered his poem, "Snow," which he dedicated to his "children in Minnesota."

Becoming a Lone Star Swan rich in "rags"

In 1978, David kept a diary of the nine days he spent with his father in San Francisco. By then, his dad lived within walking-distance of Lombard Street with his girlfriend and her daughters. He took David on windy motorcycle rides, bought him fried ice cream and cheered him up with fatherly advice.

In 1981, David qualified for a chess U.S. Open tournament in San Francisco, and arrived with his nine-year-old brother, Casey, in tow. In that two-week period, Swan purchased a school bus and piled his family inside, including Casey, and moved to San Jose. Afterward, Casey hopped on a Greyhound back to the city, and returned home with his brother.

Catherine, Swan's sister, who lives in Tennessee, saw him in the Mission again in 1986, after finding his writings pinned to a restaurant cork board. She said when she found him, he explained to her he had just finished talking to a gnat that told him the secrets of the universe.

Andrew McKinley, the owner of Adobe Books, remembered it was 1988 when Swan's Volkswagen bus/home arrived back in the Mission. Back then, Adobe Books inhabited 16th Street, and Swan inhabited Adobe's doorway and basement.

"He had this love of news; he had a love for animals and insects. But I guess he slowly devolved into a bird feeder," McKinley previously told Mission Local. Around then, Swan began insisting that people call him Lone Star Swan.

Eventually, the bus was towed and Swan found himself on the streets. Still, he visited Adobe, which was the neighborhood's living room then, according to John, a current Adobe staffer. Over the years John observed Swan, who smoked weed out front and sheltered in the store to write his one-sheet daily newsletter, dubbed Rags. Adobe possesses thousands of copies of the newsletter, and has considered assembling them into a book.

Sometimes, Swan's daily newsletter declared political revolution or campaigns for president. One, advertising his presidential campaign, ran a giant photo of Swan's self-declared "dreamy" younger self and read: "No Nukes. Pro-Grass & Women. No Parking Meters, Also, pro-Black." He added: "RUN YOURSELF FOR PRESIDENT TODAY. PLASTER YOUR OWN PICTURE ALL OVER TOWN."

Frequently, Swan hung out on 16th Street. He sat at Picaro Cafe and the BART Plaza, tossing bird seed or rice to the pigeons. He fashioned splints for the injured ones, and recognized each, said John from Adobe. "He was a Mission character, like the Red Man," he added. "He wanted everyone to like the underdog pigeons and the mice and roaches. He wanted them to be respected and things like that."

To passersby, Swan was just another screaming, mentally-ill, unhoused resident trying to make it in San Francisco. He'd send his old friend and colleague Wolfe letters occasionally asking for money in exchange for a lengthy poem.

" ... All is mostly well here on the 10th floor, amid yet at times above, the Great Depression invisibly passing below ... " John Ratliff "Swan" . Excerpt of poem sent to Roger Wolfe.

"He'd write a story and I'd think, I never would've thought of writing it like that," Wolfe said. "It was always compelling."

Eventually, Wolfe decided to film a documentary on schizophrenia and knew Swan should be his main character. Thanks to Google, in the early 2000s he traced Swan back to Adobe Books;McKinley answered and said, "Do you want to talk to him? He's right here." Swan agreed, and Wolfe arrived. He was shocked to see his old friend after all these years, plagued with paranoia and fixing up a sleeping bag on Adobe's black-and-white tiled floor to sleep.

"I am schizophrenic. I am a thousand different characters. I have claimed to be God, Jesus, Buddha and Napoleon and backed it up and proved it," Swan says in the documentary.

The voices in Swan's head tortured him; Swan said the government tracked him, and he fretted because the voices plotted to kill his pigeons.

Over the years, Swan's sister Catherine visited him multiple times and received his newsletter by fax. He'd show up randomly at her home in South Dakota at times, muttering that the CIA wanted to murder him, but would add that it was okay, because the local police department and half the FBI were on his side. That wouldn't save his children, though, whom he feared that his enemies targeted to get to him.

And, at times, the schizophrenia rendered him confused about his children. When Casey visited in the early 2000s, he said, Swan demanded he show his identification; he denied his son's hug, but relented to a handshake. Casey visited again in 2009, and stopped after that.

"We had some frank conversations that were hard to hear. I asked him if he loved us kids, and he said 'no.' I let go. Sometimes I think maybe I shouldn't have," Casey said. "I wonder if, in Heaven, he's schizophrenic. It'd be cool if he wasn't."

It hurt Krissa, too. After the separation, she enjoyed a week with him in Chicago when she was 9. She met up with him again in San Francisco at 21, and had a good, lucid conversation, "and he'd flip a switch." He said never to contact him again; "They" would try to get to him by coming for his daughter. She wouldn't again until he got sick around 2018.

"As I was an adult, I started to understand that, in his own mind, he's been protecting us his whole life by staying on the street and staying away from me," said Krissa, who is now 53 and a doctor on a Native American reservation in Wisconsin.

The Swan Dive

In recent years, rumors circulated among concerned neighbors that Swan had died. He hadn't, but he did end up in the hospital in around 2018 due to sepsis, an intense bodily response to an infection.

Catherine and his ex-wife alerted his daughter Krissa, who hadn't seen him since she was 21. She spoke with him and said he sounded lucid. The father and daughter exchanged childhood stories, and then Swan became paranoid that the police were tracing the call.

Eventually he was discharged, and Krissa ensured her contact information was passed on to healthcare workers. She sent him sleeping bags and food through a sword-wielding Mission friend, Kenshin Shimayama. Swan's legs were in poor shape, and he was again on the streets in 2019.

Later, Swan finally accepted a placement at a V.A. apartment in San Francisco. In October 2021, he fell and was found two days later by his social worker. Swan was transferred to the hospital, and Krissa and Charles flew out to see him. Charles joked that the San Francisco pigeons would hear about their arrival and swarm them, thinking Swan's kids were "taking over the family business."

They spent a few days with him, and Swan's health improved. Each child fed and talked with their father, and showed him pictures of their children. Krissa planned a trip to visit in December, but omicron prevented it. They'd phone often, and he was the most lucid he'd been in 40 years, Krissa said.

His health took a turn for the worse at the end of January, 2022, and persisted. In February, Krissa Facetimed him in his new nursing home, telling him if he wanted to die and become a star, he could, and she'd see him in the sky. "Okay," he replied peacefully. The doctor left them alone, and Krissa sang the lullaby he wrote for her and her siblings over and over until he fell asleep. He died two days later.

"I got my father back, even if it was for just a short time. He got himself back, and he was able to be sort of forgiven," Krissa said. "I'd say, 'I miss you, Dad. I love you.' He'd say, 'I miss you, Krissa. I love you.'"

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Swan song: John Ratliff, 'Lone Star Swan,' dies at 81

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"I got my father back, even if it was for just a short time. He got himself back, and he was able to be sort of forgiven," Krissa said.

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SFist - San Francisco News, Restaurants, Events, & Sports

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"Everybody wants to know where I came from, who I am, why I write, why I feed the birds," John Ratliff, who is alternately known as "Birdman" or "Lone Star Swan" tells Mission Local. "But those, those are stupid questions."

Omnipresent on 16th Street and perpetually surrounded by the pigeons he feeds, you've no doubt seen Ratliff, though you may not be familiar with his story. That's told, in part, through the "Rag" he distributes, a daily photocopied page of poems, ruminations, and ramblings to which he directs all "stupid" questions. "This," he gestures to the Rag "this is all anyone needs to know."

Ratliff, who was a professional journalist in the 1970s, suffers from schizophrenia and has been living on the streets of San Francisco since perhaps as early as 1988. He spent much of his time in the doorway of Adobe Books before that business departed 16th Street, and according to its founder Andrew McKinley "[Ratliff] has been around this neighborhood for as long as I've been around this neighborhood."

Mission Local sees in Ratliff's recent Rag issues a man who, despite his illness, is aware of himself and current events. "76 now, kryptonited & shakey-handed, the former prize-winning wire service & CBS/NBC affiliate two-fisted reporter & News Director arose out of the mothballs today to save us from the living bowel-movement of the election," Ratliff wrote last October.

A documentary to which Mission Mission has pointed in the past, directed by a friend and former co-worker of Ratliff's, reveals more of his story.

Related: SF's Homeless Census Is Literally, At Times, A Drive-By Operation

Daniel Doherty murla of Lone Star via Street Art SF

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Revisiting 'Lone Star Swan', The Bird Man Of 16th Street BART: SFist

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Ratliff, who was a professional journalist in the 1970s, suffers from schizophrenia and has been living on the streets of San Francisco since perhaps as early as 1988.

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Donna Haraway writes a lot about pigeons

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Stories can take up a myriad of forms. They can start as accurate recounts of reality but when they circulate, they are simplified, stretched out, distorted, dismissed, and often made humorous. Like a widespread game of telephone with cultural diffusion, information reaches us through filters. We tend to construct our assumptions about people through the gossip we hear from our friends, we go to places because they have been recommended to us and we place importance on things because someone or something convinced us they are important. Donna Haraway, in her book "Staying With The Trouble, Making Kin in the Chthulucene" explores these dynamics of storytelling and compares them to string figure games. She stresses the intricacy and riskiness concerned with storytelling and its importance in the creation of our worldview. Changing a few words in a story can alter its meaning and emphasis and can have detrimental effects on how the recipient subsequently perceives reality.

The pigeon, for example, has been a central topic in many tales and has been highly contested throughout history. Stories have traveled simultaneously depicting it as a hero, an agent with profound importance as well as being portrayed as a menace, "a rat with wings". Pigeons have been spies, racers, messengers, urban neighbors, subjects for scientific research, search and rescue workers at sea, companions, carriers of disease, targets of extermination...

But who recounted these stories? Who said pigeons are any of these things? Donna Haraway emphasizes the importance of looking at who is speaking. Who are the agents that are sharing these stories, in what context are they doing so, and with what authority? She writes
"It matters what matters we use to think other matters with; it matters what stories we tell other stories with; it matters what knots knot knots; what thoughts think thoughts, what descriptions describe descriptions; what ties tie ties. It matters what stories make worlds, what worlds make stories"
To rid ourselves of prejudices and biases about pigeons, we must understand them. We have to reshape the stories and gossip and re-form the relationship between ourselves and them so that we can ultimately live in cooperation and both flourish.

The inhuman carnival is our attempt to do so. We will transform ourselves into them, move like them, eat like them, and try to become them. We will dance as pigeons, adorn ourselves with their feathers, mirror their colors, and adjust to their eyesight. By focusing on the pigeon, we are celebrating them as well as trying to comprehend how they relate to us. Pigeons are a companion species, we live together and share the same space. This proximity allows for a reciprocal relationship between us and them, one which can provide much insight and comfort. Our lives intertwine like a web of strings. We share similar ways of orienting ourselves through chaotic spaces and we gather together on the surfaces of crooked benches in the town's square. Every day we pass by each other, share glances, form opinions and then proceed to our next destination.

How can we better our relationship so that we can live harmoniously together?

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The Inhuman Carnival train us to see the world from a non-human perspective, specifically from the one of a pigeon. How do we change the gossip surrounding pigeons, and empathise with them so that we...

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https://www.lovetoknow.com/life/grief-loss/burial-pods-considering-eco-friendly-ending

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https://www.talkdeath.com/environmentally-friendly-burial-options/

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De Vlaamse klei is een begrip, onder meer vanwege de producten die de keramische industrie ermee vervaardigt. Op veel plaatsen in Vlaanderen zit er plastische klei onder de grond, al dan niet dicht aan de oppervlakte. Kleigronden zijn in min of meerdere mate plastisch. Ze kunnen een volumeveranderin…

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How To Make Clay At Home (It's Just Dirt)

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How to recognize clay, follow the steps!

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How to recognize clay, follow the steps!

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kippenhok, graanopslag, duiven en een uil

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InventarisnummerG_POLS_MVDA_2015_duiventoren B

Op het kasteeldomein Borgwal te Vurste staat één van de mooiste duiventorens van Vlaanderen. Beschrijving

De vierkante duiventoren bevindt zich op het binnenerf van de kasteelhoeve. Hij werd gebouwd in de loop van de 19de eeuw (vermoedelijk ter vervanging van een ouder duivenverblijf). De monumentale constructie telt vier verdiepingen. De gelijkvloerse verdieping deed dienst als kippenhok, de eerste verdieping werd gebruikt als graanopslagplaats. Op de derde verdieping werden de duiven ondergebracht. Op de zolder huisde en huist nog steeds een uil. De toren werd afgewerkt met een tentdak en mooi uitgewerkte dakkapelletjes. Hij beschikt over maar liefst 240 vlieggaten. Het dak wordt bekroond met een windwijzer. In dit geval niet met een traditionele haan, maar met een toepasselijke duif.

De duiventoren moest na de beschietingen aan het einde van de Eerste Wereldoorlog deels worden heropgebouwd. In de 2de helft van de 20ste eeuw raakte de toren in verval. In de jaren 2000 werd de constructie van de ondergang gered door een professionele restauratiebeurt.

Sindsdien is de duiventoren terug in zijn volle schoonheid te bewonderen.

VervaardigersDavid Vanhee (fotografen)

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Op het kasteeldomein Borgwal te Vurste staat één van de mooiste duiventorens van Vlaanderen.;De vierkante duiventoren bevindt zich op het binnenerf van de kasteelhoeve. Hij werd gebouwd in de loop van de 19de eeuw (vermoedelijk ter vervanging van een ouder duivenverblijf). De monumentale constructie telt vier verdiepingen.

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Deze duif heeft als naam de "mourning dove", de rouwende duif. Door de melancholische geluiden dat die maakt.

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1: https://inventaris.onroerenderfgoed.be/erfgoedobjecten/26281

2: https://inventaris.onroerenderfgoed.be/erfgoedobjecten/26438

3: https://inventaris.onroerenderfgoed.be/erfgoedobjecten/26678

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Beschrijving

Zogenaamd "Rijckhof" of "Oostgavere". Fraaie omwalde hoeve met knotwilgen aan de walgrachten.

Woonhuis met voorgevel gericht naar de boomgaard aan de straatkant, vermoedelijk daterend uit de tweede helft van de 18de eeuw. Witgeschilderde gevel van vijf traveeën op gecementeerde plint onder zadeldak (pannen). Rechthoekige vensters met 19de-eeuws houtwerk en luiken met hartvormige lichtopening. Rechtertravee later toegevoegd? Steekboogdeurtje in vernieuwde bakstenen omlijsting en fijn waterlijstje. Rechterzijgevel met aandak en muurvlechtingen. Aan de achterzijde verruimd. Links van het woonhuis aanleunende stal onder doorlopend zadeldak en met grote poort van 1931.

Ten westen, brede dwarsschuur onder zadeldak met in het dak verhoogde doorritpoort en in de zuidgevel voorzien van luchtgaten, vergroot in 1931.

Duiventoren gelegen in de boomgaard voor het woonhuis en opgetrokken in 1931. De duiventil bevindt zich op de verdieping boven de paardenstal en doet heden dienst als hooizolder. Witgeschilderde gebouwtjes op gepikte plint. Hoofdgebouw met hoge puntgevel onder zadeldak aan weerszijden geschraagd door lagere zijaanbouwsels onder lessenaarsdak. Rechthoekige deuren en luiken met groen- en witgeschilderde verticale planken. Achtergevel met twee oversteken op muizentand voorzien van respectievelijk vijftien en elf vlieggaten boven een loopplaat. Voorzien van een achteraanbouwsel met bakhuisje.

Kadasterarchief Oost-Vlaanderen, mutatieschetsen Gent, afdeling XXVII (Drongen), 1931/62.

DEPRAET O.S. 1966: Duiventorentjes in Oost-Vlaanderen, Oost-Vlaamse Zanten 3-4, 137-138.

Bron: BOGAERT C., LANCLUS K. & VERBEECK M. 1982: Inventaris van het cultuurbezit in België, Architectuur, Stad Gent, Fusiegemeenten, Bouwen door de eeuwen heen in Vlaanderen 4nd, Brussel - Gent.
Auteurs: Lanclus, Kathleen
Datum:
De tekst wordt ter beschikking gesteld door: Agentschap Onroerend Erfgoed (AOE)

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Omwalde hoeve met knotwilgen aan de walgrachten. Woonhuis met voorgevel gericht naar de boomgaard aan de straatkant, vermoedelijk daterend uit de tweede helft van de 18de eeuw. Ten westen, brede dwarsschuur onder zadeldak met in het dak verhoogde doorritpoort. Duiventoren gelegen in de boomgaard voor het woonhuis en opgetrokken in 1931.

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andere:

Bellem: https://mijnplatteland.com/mela/o_m/1970_3/oud_Bellem_3.php

Lievegem:
https://inventaris.onroerenderfgoed.be/erfgoedobjecten/33643

Kaprijke:
https://inventaris.onroerenderfgoed.be/erfgoedobjecten/44793

Gentbrugge:
https://inventaris.onroerenderfgoed.be/erfgoedobjecten/26438

Lochistri:
https://inventaris.onroerenderfgoed.be/erfgoedobjecten/34108

95 resultaten in Vlaanderen: https://inventaris.onroerenderfgoed.be/erfgoedobjecten?typologie=https://id.erfgoed.net/thesauri/erfgoedtypes/919

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Beschrijving

Duiventoren in de boomgaard van het omhaagde voorerf van een gemoderniseerde hoeve. Naar verluidt hofstede vroeger afhangend van het verdwenen Kasteel van Durmen. In de akte van verkoop van 1735 van het kasteel is ook melding van een "duyvekeete".

Vierkante bakstenen duiventoren van drie bouwlagen onder vernieuwd zadeldak (pannen), waarschijnlijk opklimmend tot de 17de eeuw. Lage tudorboogdeur met zandstenen boogstenen in de Westelijke puntgevel. In de oostelijke puntgevel, boven elkaar, twee gedrukte korfboogvormige spaarvelden met zeven en vijf vlieggaten boven loopplaat. Overwelfde benedenruimte met mangat te bereiken via ladder van de bovenliggende duivenwoning. Tegen een van de zijgevels van de duiventoren zou vroeger een stenen buitentrap gestaan hebben.

DEPRAET O.S., Duiventorens in Oost-Vlaanderen, in Oostvlaamsche Zanten, XLI, 3-4, 1966, p. 148.

Bron: BOGAERT C., LANCLUS K. & VERBEECK M. 1994: Inventaris van het cultuurbezit in België, Architectuur, Provincie Oost-Vlaanderen, Arrondissement Gent, Kantons Waarschoot - Zomergem, Bouwen door de eeuwen heen in Vlaanderen 12n5, Brussel - Turnhout.
Auteurs: Bogaert, Chris; Lanclus, Kathleen; Verbeeck, Mieke
Datum:
De tekst wordt ter beschikking gesteld door: Agentschap Onroerend Erfgoed (AOE)

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Duiventoren in de boomgaard van het omhaagde voorerf van een gemoderniseerde hoeve. Naar verluidt hofstede vroeger afhangend van het verdwenen Kasteel van Durmen. Vierkante bakstenen duiventoren van drie bouwlagen onder vernieuwd zadeldak, waarschijnlijk opklimmend tot de 17de eeuw.

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"Hoe nog in God geloven als duiven zo stom zijn?"

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"Hoe nog in God geloven als duiven zo stom zijn?"

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Hoe ver gaat onze dierenliefde?

Kun je van vogels houden, maar niet van duiven? Het is een vraag waarmee wij in onze buurt al enkele jaren worstelen. Vooral in de nestel- en broedperiodes van de duif kampen wij met zeer tegenstrijdige gevoelens.

In onze aaneengesloten stadstuinen zitten veel vogels.

We worden 's ochtends wakker van fluitende vogeltjes.

Er zijn mussen, mezen en merels en zelfs een paar zwaluwen. En er is ook een toenemende kudde houtduiven.

Die duiven zijn in onze buurt niet graag gezien. Ze zijn te dik en te plomp. Hun eindeloos 'roekoe' gaat snel vervelen. Hun uitwerpselen zijn veel te groot en als ze opdrogen in de zon, heb je een beitel nodig om ze weg te bikken van je terras of balkon. Maar het ergste is dat ze dol zijn op nestplekjes vlakbij mensenhuizen. Op de vensterbank van de badkamer. Achter de klimop bij de slaapkamer. Op een richel boven de voordeur. In de dakgoot of bovenin de schoorsteen. Hoe dichterbij, hoe liever. Dan bezetten ze wekenlang hun nestplek en brengen een stel schriele duifkuikens voort, die veel te snel groeien en binnen de kortste keren zelf aan een nest beginnen. En ondertussen flatsen ze hun zwart-witte uitwerpselen als merktekens op de grond onder elke zit- of slaapplaats.

Onze buren zijn strijdvaardig. Ze klappen in hun handen en roepen om de dieren weg te jagen. Maar die zijn onverstoorbaar. Ze plaatsen pinnen of reflecterende spulletjes om ze af te schrikken. Maar de duiven rukken alles weg wat in hun weg staat en gaan verder met het bouwen van hun slordige takkennest.

Ze zijn het onkruid van het luchtruim. Niet graag gezien maar onverwoestbaar.

Elke winter hangen mijn buren en ik mezenbollen. De vogels zijn onze vrienden. We hebben nestkastjes met kleine, ronde gaatjes aan de bomen bevestigd. We zetten schaaltjes met water klaar als het droog is. Maar die duiven zien we liever elders, ver weg, in hoge bomen aan de andere kant van de stad. Er is een grens aan onze vogelliefde en de duif is erover.

Ook al is de duif het symbool van de vrede, wij worden agressief van hun opdringerige aanwezigheid.

Bovendien staat de duif ook nog voor de geest van God. Daarmee doe je ook niet wat je wil, dus dat kan kloppen. Al wordt het steeds moeilijker om met een serene blik te kijken naar afbeeldingen van de heilige geest. Zo stellen de duiven nu ook nog mijn geloof op de proef.

Onlangs wandelde er een duif over mijn terras die me met een schuin kopje brutaal aankeek. Ze vloog niet eens meer weg toen ik 'ksst' riep.
'Arrogant beest', foeterde ik.
'Roekoe', antwoordde ze kalm.
Er zit niets anders op dan te proberen ze te negeren. Maar daarvoor heb ik eerst nog een extra portie vrede nodig.