HONG KONG: House crows are the latest to face mass extermination in Hong Kong following the discovery last week of a dead bird that was found to be carrying the H5N1 virus.
Officers of the Agriculture, Fisheries and Conservation Department have installed cages on rooftops of house to trap house crows and kill them.
Additionally, health workers will seek to nip the problem in the bud by removing chicks and eggs from crows’ nests during the breeding season, which begins in April.
The bird flu paranoia got a little out of hand last week when a department official was perceived to be encouraging the public to kill crows to complement the authorities’ efforts.
But subsequently, the department clarified that it was best for the public not to come into contact with the birds for fear of contracting the deadly infection. It was best, officials said, to leave the killing to those who had the authority and the training to do the job.
Officials acknowledge that it is impossible to cull house crows in their entirety, but say that the effort is to control the bird population or confine them within their natural spaces so that interaction with humans is limited. The department received suggestions for shooting the birds, but said it was an unviable option, and that the risks far outweighed the rewards.
Pointing out the practical problems involved in such an effort, a department official said: “Aside from the potential danger, shooting will merely scare away the birds. Those that fly away will then move to neighbouring areas – which will have the effect of expanding the birds’ territory of operations.”
On the face of it, only those who come in contact with birds, their eggs and bird droppings – which means poultry farmers - would seem to be at risk of infection. But just how close to the edge we all live was rudely brought home to me the other day.
My daily morning ritual is to go down to the open-air plaza near my seaside apartment and read the newspapers over a cup of tea. A couple of days ago, I realised – too late – that I had accidentally brushed against some fresh bird dropping on the alfresco table.
Anywhere else in the world, it would have been just a minor inconvenience: you wash your hands, and get on with your life. But in Hong Kong, with the heightened fear of bird flu infections and alerts, contact with bird droppings of any kind counts as high-risk behaviour and gets your nerves jangling.
After washing up, I dashed back to my apartment to read up on bird flu symptoms. With increasing horror, I realised, much like the character in Jerome K. Jerome’s Three Men In A Boat, that I had all of them – and much else besides. That I’ve lived this long to tell this tell, I count as an Act of God.