# Confession of a pigeon lover



## Boni Birds (Mar 19, 2007)

*That saying, “What you don’t know can’t hurt” doesn’t apply to bird lovers.*

*Part One: Confession of a pigeon lover*
He came to me, by way of box, found in a parking lot- to a contractor’s hands, to friends, to me-the neighborhood bird lady. Fat, fleshy colored, hungry, wide wondering eyes. A hint of pins coming out here and there, and a strange, earthy, scat smell. 
Well this was a first; what in the world was it?
A day or so of pet store rounds, and information connections, I discovered the Pigeon! 
All the birds that had made pit stops with me lived in the house, or outside free, they had spent very little time in a cage. Cages were for sick birds and birds to young to know the evils of the world.
(That is why my first pigeon diaper came to be). Curiously, we never named the bird, except to call him PG. All birds were always on their way to somewhere else you know. I thought as soon as it could fly it would leave also. In those days my boys and I came to be incredibly poor. (Sudden economic down slide) We lived in a shack down by the river, (for real); there wasn’t enough electricity to run more than one appliance at a time, no real septic system and the place was not secure. PG could fly out the window we left open for air, as there were no screens. (Yes this goes on in America today). When he grew big enough to fly, out he would go, but came back to me again and again… He knew to be in the house the diaper would have to be on, and yet he was always there we returned home. Ready to diaper up and be inside. We would buy his food supply at the local feed store, a brown lunch sack, half full at a time, why get more if he was “just going to be on his way one day”.
I would get used to looking for him, (you know how you do) hoping he was there in his familiar spots, afraid he had left, gotten eaten, moved on…And there he was day after day on the roof top watching for me, on the fireplace mantle making a stick pile. On my pillow- the favorite place. Soon we came to see, even with other pigeons showing up on occasion to try and tempt him away, he stayed. Moved in, took over and set up his territory. He had to share the house with a feral cat that had found us along the way. No problem the cat was terrified of the wing snapping, cooing, hooting, ball of feathers. PG was an attentive defender of his territory. That territory was mostly my bed. The whole thing; poor cat couldn’t even have the foot of it to rest on.
He is the pigeon that would gently pull on my eye lashes to wake me, after first light, and then fly to the toaster to wait for toast. I tell you, you cannot know true bird love, until those orbs gaze into yours in such trust and contentment, and their fluff of feathers tickle your nose as they snuggle ever closer. When you open your eyes to find their orange tinged steady gaze, having been staring at you as if they were your lover; then, the responsibility settles in. There is a relationship to consider. PG tried to boss my life most of the time, trying to maneuver me to certain spots in the house; or would sit hooting and cooing, with great enthusiasm, obviously trying to get my attention. Walk all over my books and notes as I tried to study for college exams, picking at the pencils, dropping things over the edge of the table. And by golly, I’d better be thinking of bed time by 9:30pm or there was bird temper in the air! PG would do “fly by dives” to try and herd me around towards the bed!
He sat contentedly near me when I was home, watching everything I did, stood at the sink, inspecting my dish washing job, (waiting his turn to take a bath), followed me from room to room, sometimes going to see one of the boys, and hang with them for a bit. PG spent a lot of time free out side too; it never occurred to me that a hawk could eat him, or some other predator. I had always been, for the most part, of a mind, to just let an animal be, an animal. (except for the diaper compromise) Odd thing about PG was, he became more and more a part of the family. He knew every boy in the house from a visiting friend, and like a dog would inspect them with challenging maneuvers and serious hooting language.
He would meet the car coming home, jump in and ride the rest of the way up to the house, sitting forward on the seat back; bobbing his head to the speed we would go. 
Bob---bob- for the slow ride and BOB-BOB-BOB-BOB-if we drove faster.
Then one day, coming home from work, just before I sat in my favorite chair, I spied a beautiful tiny white egg amongst a sprinkling of weed grass and sticks, on the chair! 
Imagine my surprise at being in a “Lesbian relationship”- he was really a she! All of that aggressive loving behavior, and she thought I was a guy! And the next day there were TWO eggs!
This egg business challenged our budding relationship. When I came in from work and college, she would fly after me in frantic conversation. Me, with just enough “birdeng” language, from all my past bird exposure, (which did nothing to prepare me for the insistence of a “mom to be” who felt she was doing all the work) could see she wanted me to sit on the eggs! After some demonstrative fly bys, attempts at herding me, and negotiations, she seemed content if I would just put my hand over the eggs, and settle down on the floor by the chair. Then she would scarf from her food tray, glance at me to see if I was still “doing my job”, and run/fly into the other room to fly out the window, to go and do what ever it was she did out there. There must have been something terribly dysfunctional about me to feel so guilty for getting up and leaving that egg, I knew would not hatch. PG just did not understand I had five boys to feed, and so many chores to do before sundown even I knew they would not all get done. At some point in the evening, I would go out to collect the chicken eggs and putter in the garden for something for dinner, she would always spy me from what ever “secret bird place” she had rested at, then she would fly out to me with such incriminating eyes and hoots of how I was “letting her down”, I’d pick up the collection basket and trudge back to the egg. 
Now I can’t tell you, why I did not have the knowledge I needed to, to prevent what was to come, perhaps my life was far to stressful and overburdened to have not taken the time to know enough pigeon details, but when something is your fault it doesn’t really matter why; it becomes lessons learned, sometimes painfully so. (To be continued)


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## Reti (Jul 20, 2003)

What an amazing pigeon-human relatioship. She is such a special pijie.

Reti


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## flitsnowzoom (Mar 20, 2007)

What a way with words you have . You should peddle these stories, Boni. Don't make us wait too long. 
Mmmm, am I going to have to get a hankie  to finish reading this story?


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## sabina (Mar 11, 2006)

Boni, I LOVE reading your stories . Hurry, hurry, please tell us what happened next!

Sabina


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## naturegirl (Nov 7, 2005)

Boni that is such an incredible story. It is so real though how they own us and we don't own them. Sounds like she had you in training instead of her in training  She sounds like a true friend though even if she is a bird. Sometimes they really are the best kind. Well I will be waiting for the rest of the story and watching for it please don't keep us waiting too long ok? 

Cindy


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## Maggie-NC (Jun 22, 2005)

Boni, you do have a way with words.

I think I will be like flitszoomnow and have some hankies beside the computer when you finish.


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## Charis (Feb 11, 2007)

What a picture you create with your words.
I'm there.
Don't know if I can bare the continuation though.


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## Skyeking (Jan 17, 2003)

Great story, I can surely relate....can we have a pic or two to go with the story?


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