Project Pigeon: How Birds Were Trained To Guide Bombs In WWII

While pigeons and doves are the same species, many people consider the former little more than rats with wings. They roost in cities, gather around anyone with food, and poop on everything. But not too long ago, we relied on pigeons for help during warfare — ironic given that doves are a symbol of peace.

Before the invention of walkie talkies, satellite phones, and other long-distance communications, soldiers used pigeons to ferry messages across the battlefield. Homing pigeons were prized for their unerring ability to quickly find their way back to HQ no matter the distance, as well as their unflappable resistance to stressful conditions. These message-carrying birds were so reliable that they were used up until 2006, but they arguably saw their most action during the world wars. Given the widespread use of pigeons, some innovators thought up new ways to weaponize these creatures. What do a psychologist, the U.S. military, and a food company all have in common? They all thought pigeons could be strapped into the heads of missiles and tap on glass screens that projected images of targets in order to guide their explosive payloads.

This not-so featherbrained plan never came to fruition, but the story behind its ups, downs, and eventual failure is, well, quite the story. To quote its creator, B.F. Skinner, "This is the history of a crackpot idea, born on the wrong side of the tracks intellectually speaking, but eventually vindicated in a sort of middle class respectability."

Mankind has found all sorts of ways to drag innocent animals into its wars, including World War II. Soviet soldiers considered strapping explosives to dogs as anti-tank deterrents, while the U.S. thought about tying timed incendiary charges to bats in order to burn down enemy cities. Project Pigeon tried to weaponize pigeons in a similar fashion.

Believe it or not, the U.S. military didn't approach B.F. Skinner over an idea regarding pigeon-guided missiles; he came up with the idea and thought it could be advantageous. As the story goes, Skinner was mulling over weapons targeting systems when he saw a flock of birds flying in formation. Skinner was struck by inspiration. He suddenly viewed pigeons as "'devices' with excellent vision and extraordinary maneuverability."

In the 1940s, the U.S. Navy was ill-equipped to counter German battleships — American guidance systems were far too large and imprecise. Skinner saw his plan to steer missiles with pigeons as a solution as well as an evolution of humanity's reliance on the animal kingdom's superior senses. To him, pigeons could accurately steer missiles with their advanced eyesight, but he also so them as more expendable than human soldiers. This mindset, while highly controversial, would explain why Skinner designed his device without an escape hatch, thus guaranteeing pigeon pilots went up in flames along with whatever they hit.

In order to take advantage of Operant Conditioning, you need to use it to train your test subjects. Pigeons might be smart, but even they can't tell the difference between a Bismarck or a Deutschland-class battleship without the proper training — let alone know to aim for one.

At the beginning of Project Pigeon, B.F. Skinner bought 40 homing pigeons and 24 normal pigeons from a poultry store and encouraged them to peck at specific images. Whenever they successfully completed the task, they earned a bit of grain, which made them associate pecking targets with food — that's how Operant Conditioning works, after all. Through his testing, Skinner learned that pigeons responded particularly well to hemp seed, which became the main Operant Conditioning reward.

To simulate a mission, Skinner worked with University of Minnesota students to create a moving hoist that pushed the Pelican module towards images. After enough training, pigeons were able to hit any target no matter how far away it was. And as Project Pigeon continued, Skinner's tests and mechanisms evolved. After the Pearl Harbor attack, a new hoist implemented rotation to simulate more movements missiles might experience in flight, and Skinner also tested pigeons to see if they could maintain control when exposed to loud noises, extreme G-forces, or changes in pressure or temperature. But no matter what variables Skinner threw at his pigeons, their aim was true and their concentration unflappable.

After B. F. Skinner received a big break in the form of a $25,000 grant, one might assume he was in the clear. Upon looking back on Project Pigeon and its fate, Skinner stated, "Reality was no match for mathematics."

Several months after receiving the grant, Skinner and his coworkers were given one final chance. They had to convince top scientists that a bunch of pigeons could control a missile. To do so, Skinner provided a live demonstration that consisted of a trained bird, a test Pelican unit, and a target. And to drive the point home, Skinner and crew illuminated the Pelican screen with so much light the target was barely visible. Plus, observers were allowed to inject their own test conditions — many of which would have been unlikely in a mass produced Pelican cockpit — into the demonstration. Not like these issues bothered the pigeon, though. In Skinner's own words, the bird gave a "perfect performance," but his audience didn't see things that way.

The message Skinner received sometime after the demonstration was the opposite of what he wanted: "Further prosecution of this project would seriously delay others which in the minds of the Division would have more immediate promise of combat application." While he didn't know it at the time, Skinner would eventually conclude that the rival project with "more immediate promise of combat application" was the atomic bomb.