Homeless Homers
Like
a bird that wanders from her nest,
So
is a man who wanders from his home.
Proverbs 27: 8
It was Tuesday, November 17, 1998, when my wife
called me and gave me shocking news that our pigeon, B B, was killed and taken
away by a hawk, according to her father who called her a few minutes ago. I
rushed home at lunchtime and saw the bloodstained feathers on my patio. I
realized it did happen.
While driving alone, tears came to my eyes.
I felt as if the hawk’s claws were tearing my heart…
It was May 20, 1998, when my wife told me that her
colleague, Dan, had rescued a baby pigeon at the parking lot where people were
pruning trees. She asked if I would like to have the baby pigeon.
Without any hesitation, I said, “Sure.”
That evening, she came home with a baby pigeon in a box. I had not seen a
pigeon of such a color! It looked
like a piece of dirty mop splashed with soy sauce. The pigeon’s right wing was
injured. The wing touched the
ground and was stained by its own droppings. The poor little thing could not eat
by itself. I tried to feed the
bird, but did not have any idea how to do it. Finally I picked small pieces of
bread and carefully pushed them down its throat.
A serious question came to my mind as a result of
my nine years working as a children’s service worker: Is the child safe?
If I could not handle the situation the bird would die in my hand.
After putting the poor little bird inside a box in my bathroom, I was
wondering what I should do the next morning.
The next morning, we got up earlier than usual.
My wife held the bird and I fed it by pushing small pieces of bread down
its throat. I was still anxious.
By calling several places I found out that if I called for help, Animal
Control would immediately send somebody to pick up the bird.
I also got some advice from Ms. York, a bird expert, regarding how to
feed the pigeon. On my lunch hour I came home to feed the bird with the help of
my father-in-law. When I came home
in the evening I was still struggling, wondering if I should keep the bird.
I asked my wife what she thought about the bird.
My wife never knew anything about a pigeon, so she had nothing to worry
about. She had more confidence in
me than I had.
The third day, I arranged to feed it four times a
day. On the fourth day morning, I
found the bird responded to my voice. As
soon as he heard my voice, he would squeak and jump in the box. He liked to stand on my arm and wanted to be fed. Feeding
then became easier because I did not need another person to hold him. We were
happy to see that and I felt he would make it.
My wife named him B B, which meant “Baby Bird.”
B B seemed to have such a strong desire to be in a nurturing
relationship. This desire or
urge was the key for his survival.
I built a pigeon house for B B under the shade of my grapevine.
I bought some birdseed for him to learn to eat.
On June 12, B B started flying. Having learned to fly, B B was happy to
have a home in my backyard. He was in and out free with water and food in his
pigeon house. He would fly towards
me to perch on my arm, shoulder or even my head.
It was also at that time he learned to pick up birdseeds.
Baby pigeons were fed by their parents, mouth to
mouth. B B was different. I fed him and he developed a bonding with me.
Obviously the bonding exceeded the feeding.
He did not come to me for food. He just wanted the companionship like a
puppy would do.
Looking at B B’s feathers, I knew he did not have any royal blood
inside him. His parents were street
pigeons living on garbage. It was
not a noble family line or super intelligence that had saved his life.
It was his strong desire to live and to be in a nurturing relationship
that kept him alive. After entering
such a relationship he would embrace a new life. It struck me with a thought of
people’s relationship with God.
The day when B B was killed I worked late and did not come home until
9:45 p. m. I closed the door of the
empty pigeon house with B B’s food and water inside. Feeling so hurting by the
sudden and brutal death of B B, I could not sleep well that night.
Early next morning, I went to the backyard.
In the past, I would first pet my dog and then open the pigeon house.
While looking at the silent pigeon house my heart was filled with
sadness. Suddenly, something was
coming onto my roof. It was a hawk! I
had not seen a hawk in this area for years and never saw one on my roof.
I was furious and only wished I had a gun with me!
What provoked me more was I found a lot of feathers in the southeast
corner of the yard. Obviously the hawk tore B B’s feathers at that spot before
taking its prey away. It was too hurting for me to have a close look at the
feathers.
B B’s feathers reminded me of his growth in the past several months.
At the time he learned to fly he started molting.
The ten main wing feathers of each wing started changing, one by one. His
neck started showing the metallic gloss. His new feathers presented a sharp
contrast in color, with the symmetric checkerboard patterns on his wings.
While flying, the twelve large tail feathers formed a silver-grey fan
with a black-blue rim. His nostril cover turned white and his dark eyes became
shining orange with fine red grains around the pupils.
His squealing voice tuned into the unique male pigeon grumble:
Grew-What-A-Grew.
Having a relationship with people tremendously changed B B’s life, which was more than I had expected. On weekends when my wife and I could take our time to enjoy our breakfasts, B B would cling on the screen door with his wings flapping. If he heard our sound in other rooms he would fly to other windows to look for us. He was not hungry for food because I had plenty of birdseeds, split green peas, cracked corn and sunflower seeds in his pigeon house. He seemed to want our touch and attention. When I went to work in the yard, he would fly towards me and perch on my arm or shoulder. If I pushed him away, he would stand near me or follow me.
B B seemed to be too close to the green garden rather than the blue sky. Therefore, every morning I took him to the street where wild pigeons were gathering so he could fly with them. I wanted him to mix with them and wondered if it would arouse “the call of the wild.” The flying seemed to excite him and he tumbled a lot. However, he did not really mix with the wild crowd and after flying a while he would come home alone.
One day my friend, Carlos, came and saw B B.
He told me he used to raise pigeons and said now pigeons became a
nuisance because there were so many. His words made me think.
Looking at hundreds of wild pigeons in the street I wonder where they
originally came from. My assumption
is that many of them did not come from the wilderness, but from people’s
homes. Pigeons were domestic
animals as early as the Old Testament.
A lot of pigeons were lost in homing races or “gone wild” due to
other causes. Some survived and
reproduced to maintain a population in the cities where foods were available and
hunting was prohibited. A lot of those wild pigeons are homers that have the
homing ability and characteristics of a pet.
Therefore, it is possible for them to reenter people’s homes. B B’s case has showed me that.
Three days after B B’s death, I finally decided
to bring it to closure. I picked up
all his feathers and downs piece by piece.
They still felt so soft and smooth.
I put them in a plastic container, which was used to put B B’s food
when he was a baby. I buried it in
a shady spot of the lawn where B B used to stay.
I poured the water that B B had his last bath on his burial ground…
Life seemed to be so transient and fragile.
An injured homeless baby homer did find a home with people who loved him,
and his life dramatically changed. It
is the love that made him always alive in their memories and hearts. Since man
was made in God’s image, all human beings have the inner potential to know
God, and to re-establish relationship with God through Jesus Christ, who said, “I
give eternal life to them, and they shall never perish; and no one shall snatch
them out of My hand.”
(Nov. 1998)
ă 1998 Uncle Stephen. All rights reserved.