Hurricane Sandy Pigeon Takes Refuge in a Brooklyn Subway Station Before the Storm

The Smartest Pigeon in NYC? How a Brooklyn Pigeon Survived Hurricane Sandy

As Hurricane Sandy approaches, a pigeon in Brooklyn finds a hub transit station a safe environment - and navigates the storm and months afterwards with assistance from a friend

The Hurricane Sandy Pigeon on her turf

It’s 10 years since Hurricane Sandy hit New York City. The night before the storm I encountered a pigeon at the Church Avenue train station who hunkered down inside before the storm hit. This is her (our) story.

I went back to the Church Avenue station once reports came through that it was safe to cautiously walk around. I was able to walk down the stairs into the vestibule area. The turnstiles were roped off with yellow tape: Do Not Enter. Through the bars, I saw the hardy pigeon.

On Sunday, October 28, 2012, New York City was shutting down the entire subway system at 7 p.m., 469 stations, normally in operation 24 hours a day. Parks would be off limits after 5 p.m., all in anticipation of the event that we now know as Superstorm Hurricane Sandy. It all seemed so extreme. Nothing closes the Big Apple, the City that Never Sleeps.

But First, A Meg Ryan Sighting as Washington Square Park Shuts Down

Mid-afternoon, prior to the shutdowns, I dashed on the F train to Manhattan to document the closure of Washington Square Park - it was such an unusual occurrence, I wanted to document it for a blog I write about the park.

A quiet, contemplative feeling filled the air. Half an hour before closing, the 10 acre park was close to deserted, except for a few people, including actress Meg Ryan walking through with a friend - funny as she is famous for a scene in “When Harry Met Sally” where she drops Billy Crystal off alongside the Arch. It was a rare chance to have the space almost all to myself. I photographed the impending closure and emptiness in photos, then headed back to Brooklyn.

As I got off at the Church Avenue F train station hours before the “System Shutdown,” I noticed a lone pigeon walking underground near the stairs.

A man exiting at the same time remarked, "That must be the smartest pigeon in New York City." I smiled, agreeing, also worried what would happen during the storm. The bird seemed so vulnerable. He was right, though -- the station would be a hulking structure of protection whereas, on the streets, no one knew what might occur. I went to a nearby deli, bought the bird some food, a muffin would have to do, she ate it and disappeared into the station.

Church Avenue station “System Shutdown” notice October 28, 2012

A Transit Hub in Brooklyn

The Church Avenue train station is larger than most, a hub located in the neighborhood of Kensington. There are MTA offices there and bathrooms for the public, as well as elevators. The station houses two train lines (F and G), and, for some reason, a lot of operations are contained within it. The two main public entry points span more than a city block. You can walk within the station along lengthy, narrow walkways to the different entrances which are a bit spooky when no one is around. There are cameras focused on these corridors: who, if anyone, is watching is unknown.

That weekend, people stocked up on emergency supplies: candles, flashlights, extra food and water. The peak of the storm came Monday night, October 29th. Holed up in our apartments, we watched and listened as the wind and rain thrashed its way through Brooklyn and the whole city. The next day, there were downed trees on some blocks but not mine. Not far away, a young man and woman, both political activists, had gone out to walk their dog that fateful night, the pair were hit by a falling tree and killed.

In Greenwich Village, there was no electricity: the street lights were out and areas near the Hudson River flooded.

The Hurricane Sandy pigeon in the station before the storm

Seven subway tunnels flooded impacting the entire system; it was the biggest disaster in the subway system's 108 year history. It was unclear when train service would resume.

Post-Storm, Subway Pigeon Spotted

Once reports came through it was safe to cautiously walk around on Tuesday, I went back to the station. I walked down the stairs into the vestibule area. The turnstiles were roped off with yellow tape: Do Not Enter. Amazingly, I saw the hardy pigeon. I brought bird seed, throwing it between the bars to the off-limits area; my new friend made her way over, eating steadily. She just knew, as pigeons do.

The next day, the entrance to the station itself was closed, prohibiting entry to the stairs and inside. I aimed for a workaround: I threw bird seed through the gates down the steps hoping some made its way to the bottom.

The New York City subways did not begin running again for three days after the Hurricane Sandy shut down and only with limited service. In Brooklyn, people had to take buses from downtown Jay Street to get into Manhattan. It was a week after the city-wide shut down that the Church Avenue station began operating again.

Once train service resumed back to normal, I looked for the bird whenever I took the train. On neighborhood walks, running errands, I paid the fare to enter the station bringing sustenance with me which I provided as discreetly as possible. The pigeon seemed to be faring well, somehow comfortable within the massive station.

I never gave the Hurricane Sandy Pigeon a name. I would greet her typically: Hi, my friend.

The Hurricane Sandy Pigeon Would Fly Majestically Down the Subway Station Corridor to Greet me

She came to know me. When I arrived, walking down the narrow, tunnel-like corridor, from afar, the bird would recognize me and fly down the entire corridor to meet me, landing within steps of my feet.

This pigeon masterfully and elegantly navigated the underground space, spotting me and often flying over 30 feet to greet me. Sometimes, I felt I was the only one who noticed her, except one day I heard a worker mention her, he seemed both proud and protective of this survivor bird.

Her routine seemed to consist of walking through the large station during the day, at times sitting serenely in the middle of the station floor or perching on a ledge as passengers rushed by. If anyone found this unusual, I never witnessed it.

As the sun went down, she retired to her roost to sleep, despite the bright lights glaring day and night. Hurricane Sandy Pigeon located the perfect spot where she was mostly undetectable. A long silver pipe went along the length of the corridor of the station, and, above it, about eight feet or so off the ground, there were compartmentalized nooks. Passengers bustling through the station wouldn't look up there. I’d smile as I walked by and saw her sitting there, sometimes watching me. I tried not to give away her hiding spot, very aware of a camera following my movements and you just never know.

Infrequently, the bird ventured down to the lower platform level near the tracks looking for food or perhaps to diversify her routine; mostly, she remained on the upper level. When it rained or snowed - and even when it didn't - water would pool near the stairway entrance where I'd first spotted her; that became her water source and how she would clean herself. Sometimes she would sit on the railings near the stairs leading down to the busy platform, taking in the whirlwind human existence passing by.

The New Year Arrives. Pigeons are Smart.

New Year looking good

The New Year 2013 arrives. One day, another pigeon, mostly black, appeared - now there were two! (Hurricane Sandy pigeon’s coloring was medium-to-dark grey, what we consider typical pigeon colors.) The new arrival followed the subway veteran around, realizing that she had figured out a survival system and she was also the only other bird around. The new one seemed less refined, younger, anxious. While I was glad for the pigeon to have company, I also thought they (the MTA) would never allow two pigeons to live in the station. It did not become an issue because, the next day, the new bird was gone. (Hoping he just found his way out and left willingly or perhaps H.S.P. said, Hey, find your own turf.)

People may at times malign these birds but pigeons are wondrously smart. Remarkably hardy, they are deserving of our respect and help. New Yorkers - all people - can identify with them: they’re stalwart, figure out ways to survive, and create their own communities.

Spring

As spring approached, I attempted to lead the Hurricane Sandy pigeon out of the station. Like a scene out of Hansel and Gretel, leaving birdseed instead of crumbs, she followed me along an extended passageway and up a few steps - we were so close to the outside! (Seriously, this station is huge.) Inexplicably, there were no people around. Ultimately, I thought she would possibly rather be outdoors with a flock. I was also unsure how long she would go undetected before someone decided she should leave. But, as far as she followed me, she would not venture up the curve of the stairs that would show the sky, and she turned around, hustling back into the depths of the station.

Some more time went by, the steadfast pigeon was surviving well. Then, one day, I didn't see her. It was not the first time but I usually would then come across her in the next day or so. I looked around for a few days in a row, but, after a week, checking everywhere I could: it became clear that she was gone.

Hurricane Sandy Pigeon Regales Other Pigeons About her Time Living Underground in a Subway Station

I like to think that the bird found her way out, becoming part of a thriving flock, regaling them with stories of her time living underground. Perhaps someone from the MTA brought her outside. Maybe I was better off not knowing.

I still look for her sometimes. I remember the way she would fly majestically through the station to greet me or sit confidently on the railing with the big F/G subway sign behind her or roost up above and peer curiously down at me. It was like we had our own secret within the Church Avenue subway station. The smartest bird in New York City? Possibly.