The pigeon carried our messages long before we invented ways to read, copy and monetise them. When its services were no longer required, we rewarded it with an honourable new role: symbol of peace.
The white dove still enjoys an impeccable reputation on posters. Its grey relative continues to wander through the city, where its very existence has become a matter of municipal concern.
Human gratitude is a remarkable thing. It asks so little of a symbol, and rather a lot of anything still alive.
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We gave the pigeon a place on our peace posters, then made sure it had nowhere to sit in the city.
Few things are more inconvenient than a symbol that insists on remaining alive.
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