# Part two: Confessions of a pigeon lover



## Boni Birds (Mar 19, 2007)

[/B][/B]*Part two: Confessions of a pigeon lover*

I am thinking about how I just came off of “Pigeon Island” and have found the world is full of pigeon lovers, I am not the only one; yet will I be excommunicated for my pigeon sin?…sent packing back to “Pigeon Island”. It feels so wrong not to confess, someone else will undoubtedly and just as unknowingly, do the same thing some day; but maybe not if they read this. That would be worth excommunication…

I remember the day by the change in the air, lazy crispness of winter coming on. My patience had been short, if it wasn’t the electric line going down, a lack of firewood, the washer breaking, the ants, the rats, (we had rats outside as big as cats, always trying to visit) the no-good-yahoos that would sometimes come traipsing around (when you live -down–by-the-river-in-a shack)- that I would scare off with a BB gun, it was the demands of everyday life. I had finals, in college to study for, teenagers with school projects due, one needed to see the doctor; you know how it is-regular life. And isn’t it something how animals know when you are “way over the edge”, and that’s when they want to be in your lap, on your head, all over your books and papers. PG was being particularly concerned that night, she must have know how important the paper was I was working on, she was back and forth all over the table, trying to give me tips. She had jumped onto my water glass, spilling on my work, reducing me to tears and sobbing. She had no idea, how many hurdles had to be leaped. A friend that had stopped by that evening, had eyeballed my wild hair, dark circles under my eyes, and stressed posturing. I am sure I looked a exactly like Phyllis Dillar. All my frustration and fears gave out on her mistake, I swiped the table clear with my arm dumping my work on the floor and set to chasing her about the shack. My friend intervened, swooping up PG and holding me at bay. “How about we put PG out in the chicken coop?” the friend suggested. Even consumed with anger, I knew that would never do for me. We slept together every night, what about the morning toast? “Just until you finish your finals”, the friend bargained. “Four days”
It was just enough conversation to evaporate my ire, with new thoughts vacillating between concern for PG, and the tantalizing thought of peace. PG had never been caged. The coop wasn’t really like a cage after all, it was really big. And safe…
The chickens ran free all day and we cooped them at night. Surly PGs and chicken could co-exist for a short time –just 4-5 days. Without waiting for a real answer, the friend ducked out the door, taking PG away. Cool wind came in the door. That is how it is, when love is compromise, a cold crispness that gives you a shiver if you are open to feel it. But I had already turned back to the mess with my deadlines in mind. 
It never goes out of my mind, the picture of her clinging to the cage wire, flapping, calling to me, even across the short space of the field; I caught a painful glimpse of her. Her first night outside ever; but I had no time. I had a 60 mile drive to work and college, and would not be home until dusk. It was dark actually by the time I got in; and I did miss her, how could I not, but the peace to ease of one less stress, one less demanding soul looking for attention. I ask the boys about her and they assured me, they had seen her and she seemed fine (except for hanging forlornly on the wire when ever they passed by). So another day went by, and one more, but that night as it is when you know that all is not right with the world, when you know the “peace piper” has to be paid…I could not sleep, it was like I knew PG was crying out to me, even in the silence of the night.
But when we went out to find her, she was actually sitting up in a roost box, she was light as a feather, already cooling in that position, facing the shack- probably gazing through the window for a just glimpse of us; she had just died not long before. Just like that, sitting up.
All the peace in the world meant nothing, then. I had traded in the greatest gift of her love for some time to myself. Now that was all I would ever have…an empty pillow, an empty kitchen counter…. An empty heart. 
The Universe had sent a needy soul to me, and in my pigeon ignorance I had no idea that something could bond to you with such ferociousness that to be taken away, they might die of a broken heart. I had no idea, pigeons sometimes bond and mate for life. 
I did not believe it at first, I looked over her body, surely something killed her, and how could she have starved herself with food and water everywhere for her? Could a bird that was not the least bit sick, really die in less than 3 days? 
I seethed against my friend, against my economic slide, against my life, fate, anything and everything. Fact was I was a murderer..
I kept that thought stuffed away inside me, for years after that. If anyone came around that remembered her, asking about her, “I’d just say she had died”, and move the conversation to something else. Ignorance does hurt. Like me, most people didn’t know they can live 20 years or so with proper care. I moved from the shack some time after all the boys had left home as it had been officially condemned; and I finally could climb back up from living, “down by the river”. When I unpacked I found the red bandana material pigeon diaper rolled up in a ball, a keepsake I could never throw away.
Some Years later, pigeons came back into my life; it was like the sudden forgiveness of the Universe to me. I bought a pigeon book (now having some money to do so).I Retrieved the diaper from my treasure box, and made it even better. Each bird is so special, because I know this is my second chance. Mr. Hooters is the love of my life; of course he recently dumped me for Fanny. (She doesn’t know he still comes in at night to me, for kisses and neck tickling, and he sleeps in his carrier on top of the book case, I put him out come first light) That is how it is in life you know, there is forgiveness, something new comes, but you don’t ever get back exactly what you lost, that is what makes love so special.


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## sabina (Mar 11, 2006)

Oh Boni, I'm so sorry. It wasn't your fault though--who could've predicted something like that could happen in just 3 days? i never would've thought a death like that was possible. Boni, no one here would ever think of excommunicating you. So many of us have experienced tragedies for which we are partly to blame....it is always hard not to blame yourself when something unanticipated happens. I am sorry for your loss, as long ago as it was, clearly it is a hurt you carry with you. I'm glad pigeons came back into your life to heal that hurt a little bit. I'm sure you will treasure the bond you had with PG forever. 
Sabina


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## flitsnowzoom (Mar 20, 2007)

Boni, what a bittersweet tale  Thank you for sharing it. Hankie time.


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## pigeonmama (Jan 9, 2005)

Oh, Boni,
How sad !! I have to say, I bawled my eyes out of my head.
Daryl


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## mr squeaks (Apr 14, 2005)

Yep, I agree...hankie time and I KNEW what was coming!

R.I.P. PG...LOVE and HUGS


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## amoonswirl (Nov 14, 2006)

Boni,
It must have taken some real courage to share your heartbreaking story...

I know it is easier said than done, but I hope that you will be able to release yourself from the guilty feelings some day. Nobody could have predicted what would happen. After all - you were trying to keep her safe while you did what was necessary to bring a better life for the whole family.

Anyway, thank you for sharing PG's story.


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