(Written Friday night.) Last week on a rare windy day Tim happened upon a baby pigeon fallen from the nest and sadly huddled in a doorway all alone. He was moved to pity and scooped it up into a box and brought it home. Now we have a pigeon. It was a forlorn and subdued little creature, and I thought for sure that it would probably soon pass from this world. Shannon asked over the phone if it was cute and we had to admit that no, he isn't cute. He's pretty ugly, with bald patches and whispy yellow baby feathers sticking out between the big grey feathers and these bald lumps on either side of his head that I'm assuming are his ears. He's no looker for sure but he's docile and sweet. Thanks to google we soon had a plethora of scientific, mythological, historical and practical information about pigeons throughout the ages and we decided to try to feed him some cooked corn. He's too young to know how to eat solid food by himself, but when I hold him and open his little beak and put the corn in it goes down no problem. We fed him a handful which he thankfully swallowed and he made it through the night to our surprise. The next day we opened the box and he peeped for more. He was dirty and covered with disgusting big black mites so Tim washed him. Now he's fluffy and clean and mite free. During the course of the week he has grown and gotten new feathers and aside from a droopy eyelid incurred when one of the dachsunds snapped at his head, he is looking pretty good. Almost cute! Sort of. He sits in a box on a clean towel and dozes or peeps and flaps excitedly whenever we come near. He seems to be thriving!
There's a dove thriving in our house. We are caring for it when it was abandoned in the cold world. This seems an auspicious arrival in some ways, especially in our recent times of disappointment and financial worry. Ok, it's a pigeon, not the white variety with the olive branch in it's mouth, but a pigeon is a member of the genus Columbidae all the same, and they are intelligent birds that have served mankind for ages. There was one pigeon used in WWII named Mon Cher Amie who flew important messages across battle lines. He was shot in the belly and lost a leg on duty but he survived and never failed to deliver his message. He was one of several doves used during the war that were awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor. They are reliable and loyal and mate for life. They can return to their home from any location within thousands of miles. They can remember and identify something like a thousand images in lab tests. It is estimated that at maturity they have an intelligence level equivalent to a three year old child! (I don't know about this one since our pigeon still hasn't learned to open it's mouth on it's own to put the food in, but what do I know about pigeon development....perhaps that will come in time?) Anyway, all those sidewalk and street corner pigeons pooping on passerbys are maybe smarter than they look. And even in the dirtiest city, they are still beautiful on the wing, lifting of in unison and flying in arcs over the streets and parks and fountains. Cooing to each other peacefully under the eaves, thriving handsomely amongst our trash and pollution.
The dove is the bringer of peace. In Christianity it is associated with the resurrection and the Holy Spirit. The Pueblo people believed that the dove could coax rain from the sky. The Celts thought the dove's cry was in mourning, to mark a soul peacefully passing to the next realm. The Slavs believed the doves helped carry souls to heaven, and the Gypsys believed them to be messengers of divine love. Messengers of hope, gentleness, peace, loyalty, compassion, love. That is a pretty great reputation.
Is this a message for us? I've been thinking a lot about faith and acceptance. I had hoped this time in L.A. was going to be a time in when I was going to be putting my life back together, concentrating on school and the future, having a fresh start and a new perspective, getting my feet on the ground and finding my stride again, but instead sometimes lately it seems possible that it might just turn into a time of struggle with further obstacles and complications. After several years of struggling through divorce, health issues, adjusting to a totally new lifestyle with a new family and finding a new orientation for my career I feel ready for it to come back together again. I feel ready to feel in control and confident again, but that may not be what life is holding for me now. It takes a lot of faith and acceptance to have patience with that reality.
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Next morning. Sadly the pigeon is gone. He ate and peeped heartily yesterday and we heard him shifting in the night as I wrote the above passage but this morning when we opened the box he had died. It was kind of unexpected and sad. I guess it shouldn’t have been. He is an abandoned baby pigeon from the street…his survival was never a given. We had been impressed with his growth and improvement though. He was here a week exactly. Whatever was wrong with him, he didn't seem sad or weak, and he accepted what care and attention we gave him with enthusiasm and something like appreciation. His arrival in our house was a welcome distraction for the past week and it was amusing and enjoyable to care for him and see him thrive for a little while. I’m sad that he didn’t continue in this world but I’m glad that he came into ours.
Peace comes with faith and acceptance. That appears to be my message of the week. Pigeons come and pigeons go. Times of confidence and ease come and then they go, and the same with times of struggle. It’s just the way it is. I think maybe now is not a time for me to ask questions or reflect any more on this. It’s a time to get down to work again. And working I have been and will continue to do! I’m completing my third semester of grad work and still managing to do one piece of my own work every week in hopes for a good portfolio and future career, writing this blog to work on my head, I just landed another waitressing gig to work on our finances, and it’s time now to clean the house for the week to work on some order and diminished dog hair in our lives. This week’s painting is a memorializing of the brief arrival of the sweet little Wilshire blvd pigeon in our lives. He looks peaceful, huh?
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