Urban Wildlife

Canine

As my multi-ethnic, once working-class neighborhood becomes more and more gentrified, the dog population increases. This is particularly true of those toy- and purse-sized breeds so popular in the residential areas of Manhattan. Whether I am in my home or office neighborhood, these small canines never fail to draw the attention of even the worst urban cynic.

It’s easy to forget that all dogs are descended from the grey wolf when watching these tiny creatures, half of them smaller than cats. There may be a demographic code by breed, but I haven’t identified it yet. There are, however, a few things that all those small genetic wonders have in common:

• They are very people-smart. Perhaps because so many humans pause to stare at them or approach them with an “Awww,” they make eye contact with every human in their path.
  
• Whether or not they are show dogs, they all smile and prance. The Pomeranian gives his cute little foxy grin while the Maltese kicks her long hair out, like Scarlett O’Hara walking pigeon-toed to make her skirt move as she enters a room. A little jet-black pocket poodle walked very daintily on his leash before taking his owner’s lap and scoping out the nearest humans. Of course he had a typical French name: Marcel.
  
• They all have Napoleon complexes. One evening in the East Village I spotted a tiny pocket poodle on a leash trying to incite something with a German Shepherd mix who could easily have passed for a wolf. The poodle’s owner said she weighed less than two pounds. The large dog stared down the poodle from the security of his own leash and went on his way.
  

It’s no secret that owners are huge influences over their furbabies, but whenever I see a woman carrying her tiny dog in a purse as though serving as his taxi service, I have to wonder if the dog remembers that he’s a dog. In the East Village Starbucks I encountered a Yorkie in a purse and went “Aw, hi, cutie!” to have the owner respond “She hears that so often she thinks it’s her name.” I petted the dog and asked her name; curiously, I don’t remember it.

After the few days of the fall that’s coming up in New York, these small canines will be decked out in the best fashions ever seen in Dogue or Canine Quarterly. One wonders what the dogs think of this.

Avian

Although some consider them to be a major urban nuisance, I actually like pigeons. They have attitude. My late mother used to feed the birds in her garden and where sparrows and blue jays go, pigeons usually follow. One day they were sitting in formation on the roof, all staring at the feeders, their heads bobbing to get a better view. As soon as my mother was six feet away from the feeders came the whop-whop sound of the beating of their wings as they swooped down to gavonne the birdseed, like The Goodfeathers’ Godpigeon.

While waiting to cross a street under an elevated train one morning the man standing in front of me was observing the pigeons perching overhead. One was just above him, turning so that his tail feathers were over the edge. “That bird looks like he’s going to take a shit”. I couldn’t resist saying “It looks like he’s taking aim.” Realizing his vulnerability, the man backed up to a position to my right. The light changed and as we began to cross the bird flew back… and got him. As he cursed and I withheld my laughter I lamented that Seinfeld was no longer in production.

When you see courting pigeons you have to laugh. The male struts about in front of the female, puffing out his chest and fluffing out his feathers as if to see “Look at me, baby; I’m the big tough City Bird.” The female always plays hard to get, walking away while appearing to ignore him. I’ve never had the time to observe them long enough to see one succeed with a female and fly off together to a tree or a ledge, so I wonder what their success rate is. Considering the pigeon population, I suspect it’s rather high.


Rodentia

One of the founders of The National Lampoon once said that the toughest animal in the world is a New York subway rat. After what I saw one evening in the 59th street station, I believe this completely.

Two rats were running near the rail, toward me, when the light from the oncoming train appeared around the corner. The lead rat paused at the rail, the other mounted from behind. 1.5 seconds and a loud squeak later, they disengaged and ran off as the train pulled into the station. Did they do this for the bragging rights? I exchanged a look and a shrug with a woman standing about eight feet away from me, and about a half dozen others burst into laughter as the train pulled into the station. Only in New York.


Feline

On Columbus Avenue at an outdoor café the other night was the ultimate urban wildlife sighting: A blue-point Himalayan being carried by his proud human mother sans leash or carrier. Such a beautiful feline draws fans and questions easily and the couple happily described how they could carry this lovely creature around everywhere, including into the plane cabin to take him on their visits to his human grandmère in Japan. This necessitates purchasing a seat for him at human prices. The Urban Anthropologist was too polite to ask whether that required a child or adult ticket, concluding that a non-show cat who could sit on his humans’ laps in a public place with noisy people and a parade of dogs on leashes deserves the privilege.