One Saturday night, about dusk, DH and I were enjoying fast-food hamburgers while parked by the river. Of course, I noticed the birds…seagulls, crows, doves, pigeons. Most of the pigeons were dark colored, but one was white. The others appeared to shun it. The white pigeon continued looking for food in the sparse grass, even when the dark pigeons flew away to roost for the night on the roof of a building. I decided to test if the bird was hungry. Since the seagulls swooped on everything, I was cautious. I slowly got out and stood by the car. Casually, I dropped crumbs from my hamburger bun. I kept myself between the bread and the seagulls. With the windfall of crumbs, the pigeon shored up his courage and came toward me. I stepped back into the car as the pigeon ate. I placed a crumb on the window ledge. The pigeon jumped up. Poor thing must have been starving! I knew, if I could lure the pigeon into the car, I could catch it. I put lots of bread on the dash. It was irresistible to the bird! In a matter of seconds, I had the bird caught (with hardly a flutter) and tucked into my jacket. I told DH, “We have to go home now.” He had “that look” on his face, but he knows me well. I released the pigeon, who appeared healthy, into our flight. He’s very tame, friendly. I know he must have been handled by a person before because wild birds just aren’t that calm or easy to catch. He has no leg-band and, in the months we’ve had him, there have been no adverts for missing pigeons. Mine now, I guess. We haven’t named him, but I call him various terms of endearment.
