LOS ANGELES — The dossier spills over into two drawers of files full of hand-scribbled notes, maps marked with sharp black dots — and snapshots of a shadowy figure, scattering birdseed. This is Laura Dodson’s nemesis.
There was a time when neighborhood leader Dodson went after the crack dealers in her Hollywood neighborhood with such a vengeance that city officials honored her with a plaque. Now, she has declared war on another urban scourge.
Her quarry? Pigeon lady Susie Kourinian, the furtive form in the photos.
Kourinian is no ordinary bird lover. She earns her seed money as a seamstress to the stars; she appeared in InStyle magazine tweaking Cate Blanchett’s hem and is said to keep actresses such as Megan Mullally in finery.
That glittery occupation gives Kourinian the wherewithal to make a lot of pigeons happy. Kourinian once told police she spends $65,000 a year on bird feed — enough to dump 500 pounds of birdseed every day, a lifeline for the more than 5,000 pigeons who populate the two square miles of this neighborhood northwest of downtown Los Angeles.
Kourinian is reputedly so crafty that within moments, she can pop the hatch of her black sport utility vehicle, scatter 75 pounds of pigeon feed and disappear into the night.
She has been doing this for a decade, police say, but neither they nor Dodson’s small band of pigeon patrollers — a group dubbed Citizen Pigeon — have been able to stop her.
Kourinian declined to comment for this story. For years residents would periodically see her feeding birds but never knew how much.
To get an idea, Dodson and a half-dozen Citizen Pigeon members staked out various corners of Tinseltown. About 3 a.m. one night, they finally caught Kourinian mid-feed but became so flustered they lost the trail.
“We actually videotaped her putting down three 25-pound bags,” Dodson said. “We were so excited, we about peed our pants and couldn’t follow her.”
City officials considered a law banning pigeon feeding — an idea that lost support when an aging pigeon feeder in a wheelchair wept at a meeting.
Exasperated, Dodson finally wrote a letter to People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. The group suggested a two-pronged approach that included both a public awareness campaign and deployment of a new drug called Ovocontrol P that acts as a bird birth control.
Concerned that Kourinian could one day outwit her, Dodson decided she might have to spend every morning patrolling her little community, topping off fresh piles of birdseed with Ovocontrol pellets.
She has looked into becoming licensed as a pest controller.
Still, she feels that she has turned the tide of guano. The other day, a triumphant Dodson said she spotted the bird lady from her car.
“She looked straight at me,” Dodson said. “I looked straight at her and waved.”
