Pigeons love hanging around on top of a roof. It's high up away from people. There's a great view so they can see the other pigeons in their community and approaching predators. And there's often good options for shelter, too, such as solar panels, roof-mounted A/C units and nooks where 2 roof lines meet. All provide an awesome place to raise a family.
I can't tell you how many times a customer will call me out to help them solve their pigeon problem and I find spike up on the roof. The customer is often confused as to why the spike they paid someone else to put on the roof didn't keep the pigeons away. The answer is actually pretty simple: those bird spike strips don't move and they can't cover the entire roof. Therefore, they just don't work.
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Bird spikes, or pigeon spikes, are considered 'ledge products'. They are designed to protect a ledge. And if the right size and configuration of spike for a given ledge is installed correctly, they will almost always work. On rare occasions, smaller birds may nest in the spike because they can fit between the tines nicely. But out of the literally thousands of miles of bird spike that I've installed over the past 30+ years, I've only dealt with that problem a handful of times.
At the end of the day, don't use spike on the roof or hire anyone who plans to do so. It just won't work. Period. I hope this article helps shed a little light on why pigeon spike didn't get rid of the pigeons on your roof. And I hope you'll consider GoldShot Exterminating as your pigeon control solution. As always - Happy Hunting!
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It's not that I have anything against psychologists. In fact, I am one of their ilk. I remain in relatively good standing, and I deal with kids for the bulk of my practice. So what is my problem? I'll tell you.
Now one might ask why cognition would bother behaviorists. The answer, of course, is that no other animal seems to have it. It's peculiar to humans. And once introduced into the theoretical musings of the behaviorist, that which he advertises as a comprehensive psychology of children begins to take on a peculiar odor, not unlike over-age carp.
This returns us to that oddity of the behaviorist, which is the reluctance to admit cognition as a theoretical construct. Would it be safe to conjecture that one of the reasons Dr. Skinner chose pigeons rather than Army PFCs for the task is that the former lacked this quality of cognition whereas the latter clearly did not? Putting the humane element aside for a while, why didn't he train PFCs for the task if there is no fundamental difference between animal and human behavior? They would have been much more adaptable to the task.
As an undergraduate in psychology, I was never very good. I think this is why a lot of the common-sense impressions about children's behavior that I brought from my childhood home and into the classroom never completely evaporated. Let me tell you a story.
I was about five years old. I was walking with my mother down a street in Queens. We came upon my little friend and next-door neighbor, Guido, who was with his mother. The spectacle I espied went thus: Guido wanted a toy canteen he saw in a store window. His mother said he could not have it. Guido then commenced a fit that included screaming, stomping, crying, and generally making himself quite an embarrassment to his mother. She quickly gave in. The next day, there was Guido with a new canteen. I took this in with all the curiosity of a bright five-year-old, one with a list of ends yet unacquired. Suddenly, I thought, I had the means.
The next time we were in a store, I asked my mother for the first thing I saw, a phonograph record. She predictably said no. Here was a chance to experiment. I jumped up and down and gave a few feeble moans. This was no small feat, as I was a heavy child and could not pull off a tantrum with the same grace and style as could Guido. "This," I thought to myself, "ain't gonna work." But it did. My mother quickly acquiesced. She paid for the record.
It was placed in a paper bag and put into my little paw, just to quiet me. I was shocked. I didn't even really want the stupid thing, which, I swear to you, was a yellow 78 of Jimmy Durante singing "Rudolf, the Red-Nosed Reindeer." But it worked! While I was wasting my time discovering object permanence and representational thought, Guido had figured out what makes the world go 'round.
But all things come to an end. With Mr. and Mrs. Barone, it simply had to, because neither was prone to such transgressions of logic for any appreciable length of time. And fortunately, neither was an adherent of any of the latest learning theories that advised ignoring my tantrums in the hope they'd simply disappear. No. My parents had too much respect for both me and the peace for that.
I was not a prodigy. I am convinced that the way I was able to watch the world and make some inferences and deductions is much the same way most children are able to understand and act in their environments. To deny this is to deny what is essentially human about children. It's precisely this that the behaviorist chooses to ignore.
I didn't learn a heck of a lot about children when I went to graduate school, even though I really tried. I did learn an awful lot about rats. I can remember teaching them to bar-press for food, then trying to get them to stop bar-pressing at different levels of hunger. As you might guess, hardly a day goes by that I don't refer to those results in my practice of psychology with children!
I remember staring into that Skinner box, looking at the rat, thinking, "If only I could tell that rat what I want from him! If only he knew!" Then I wouldn't have to let him do a little bit of this and a little bit of that, until he finally stumbled across the thing that I wanted. If only he knew! But, of course, if I had found a rat that knew, one that when simply asked to bar-press 15 times for a pellet of food did just that, the august faculty would have been uninterested. "Look!" I might have said. "When I tell the rat to bar-press 15 times, he does it! He knowsl Damn it, he knowsl"
Which brings us back to my friend Jill. Don't let them kid you. Ignorance combined with apathy is not the worst danger a child might face. I've seen it time and time again; sometimes there's random benefit to benign neglect. I am much more afraid of misinformation, especially when combined with ardor. So as I said before, my friend Jill the other day informed me that she's going to have a baby, and I am worried.
I've spent what seems like weeks hanging out in my backyard, watching my young son give up computer games in favor of snuggling the now adolescent hens (he finds them soothing) and my older son happily reading on a hay bale, three chickens on his lap and another busily untying his shoelace.
I've snuggled up with my kids happily watching David Attenborough's absolutely brilliant documentary, The Life of Birds (available for instant download on Netflix!), which describes the thinking, mating, flight, and evolution of these absolutely marvelous creatures.
And I've spent hours poring the web and the scientific literature about homing pigeons after my eldest bought four white homing doves to start a dove release business, then promptly got accepted into the Peace Corps.
Well, PIGEONS and psychology. Because, it turns out, pigeons have played a big part in what we know about learning, how we structure education, how we work with children with autism, the advice we give parents, and how we understand economics.
While it's rats and their mazes that are iconically associated with mid 20th century psychology it's pigeons that served as the preferred model system for one of the foundational figures of psychology: B.F. Skinner.
tag_hash_105Burrhus Frederic (B.F.) Skinner first got interested in pigeons in the late 1930's while riding a train, watching the flying hordes careen through the city sky and worrying about the oncoming Nazi invasion in Europe.
Pavlov had noted that stimuli caused learning through association: a bell rings, the dog drools. Skinner took this further. He noted that it's not the bell that makes the dog drool. It's what happens afterwards: the meat the dinner bell announces.
This simple - but brilliant - observation led Skinner to focus on what happens AFTER a behavior: a reward - which increases the likelihood that the behavior will occur again - or a punishment - which decreases it.
Skinner's observations of the spectacular aeronautic abilities of the common pigeon (racing pigeons have been clocked at over 100 mph) led him to believe that they might be the perfect pilot to guide missiles and defend beleaguered European cities suffering from Nazi bombardment. Computer guidance was unheard of, and electronic guidance was new and unreliable. Pilots could steer planes to take out missiles, but what the Navy needed was essentially what kamakazi pilots did - without losing human pilots. 152ee80cbc
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