Handsome

3 years ago, we moved our store about 8 blocks. We packed and packed and packed for 2 weeks solid-- and when we pushed the easy button and called the movers, we brought to the new location 12 truckloads of stuff-- including the cat and 4 pigeons.

Mister came to us first with a wing injury, several months before we moved. (It turns out s/he was probably a female, since the rest of them danced around her in the spring.) S/he would beetle around on the floor and duck under the rolling carts we use for counters & storage whenever the cat would come too close. S/he never flew again, although s/he would unfold the good wing and stretch out the same leg, and look like s/he was doing Tai-chi.

Betty followed a few months later, and was just too little to fly-- probably fell out of the nest and couldn't get back up. S/he was huddled up against the back door one night as we were leaving. S/he stayed for a few months, then we released her to the rest of the pigeon flock. S/he was back 2 days later with a foot injury.

The Twins each arrived 2 days before we moved. They were both too little to fly. We were running out of cages by this point, so we housed them together, hence their name. One was mostly white, and the other mostly dark.

Pigeons, you may know, live 5-7 years outside, and we were shocked to discover, up to 35 years in captivity. We had no intention of KEEPING them, and our release rate has been pretty good. (We are members of the raptor society, so we can help with injured birds.) That first day in April, the first really sunny day, Betty and the Twins soared off into the sky, flying in ever increasing circles until we couldn't see them anymore. We cried one tear, and went back inside. An hour and a half later it started to snow, and they flew noisily in the back door. They slept for a day and a half, and then they started taking off, returning to the roost at night. We realized they were going to be here for a while, so we installed cardboard "poop shields" above all the counters and computers. Mister beetled all over the floor, even going outside in the day and picking through the grass. S/he climbed into the kitty carrier that was his roost each night, and we'd latch the door so the cat couldn't get him.

We changed the Twins' name to the Teenagers-- every time we'd walk into the workroom, they'd fly off in opposite directions. The white one was trying to build a nest inside a box on the upper storage shelves, and the dark one would bring him twigs and debris from the workroom floor. We finally realized to our relief, that Betty AND the twins had to all be male, or there would be babies coming. Plus, when we climbed up to inspect the nest the Teenagers had labored so long over, it was pretty skimpy.

Betty was the first to leave for good. S/he still joins the flock for breakfast, and sits on the chainlink fence outside the back door and huffs at us. The white twin left next, followed by the dark twin. It was a long, hard winter; and the first really big snow in November when we got 17 inches of snow in 24 hours, Mister walked out the back door and we couldn't find him. S/he'd been trying to get out all day and we kept shooing him inside. When we loaded up the delivery truck in the afternoon, s/he slipped out.

It was a very quiet winter. No little cooing sounds about 4pm when the birds usually settled into their downy cots for the night. Then the light returned, the days got longer and warmer, and we started opening the back door for ventilation. In through the back door, open only a few inches, flew a beautiful creature-- round, glossy breast, iridescent neck, and white stripe above the beak, signifying his adulthood! It was the dark twin. Now so plush and beautiful, we call him Handsome. He still flies in occasionally- more in the winter than in the summer. Last year he coaxed one of his two wives inside-- but she got scared and took off. Now, he comes in, and the both wives wait on the roof for him.

We still put out feed for Handsome, we still have the poop shields up in the workroom. We still watch out for the other pigeons in our part of the world. What do we get out of it? The chance to see another creature up close. If you have ever felt the breast of a pigeon against your hand, you know what we mean. And if we can't nurture each other, what's the point?

Keep blooming, everybody.