I think pigeons are misunderstood. A lot of people call them "rats with wings" because they poop a lot, make messes, and hang out in cities or something. I've never had anything against pigeons. They're just another type of bird, right? Actually, in my opinion, a pigeon is so much more.
Let me explain. I never thought much about pigeons until I met Walter. Walter was a foster pigeon I was taking care of for about a year because he had some type of disease or something. It wasn't gross or contagious, but it made his neck and head turn upside down. It was actually really freaking adorable. Needless to say, I had to look out for him because he wouldn't survive on his own.
He started out pretty shy, but in time he came to trust me more. He would coo at night, and I would fall asleep smiling. He would get as close to me as he could when I was sitting next to his cage at my desk, and he would sing and coo more again while gazing at me with half shut eyes. I loved Walter. Everything about him. Even the way he was picky with his seeds. He had a favorite kind, and he would fling all the other seeds around my room to get to them. The mess was worth having him. He wasn't too hard to clean up after either. Sometimes, I would pick him up and hold him and let him look outside the window because I didn't want him to be stuck in his cage all the time. When I left for school, I would leave my blinds and screens open so the sun would come in and he could feel a breeze. I would also leave the radio on to make him feel less lonely. I would sing to him. I talked to him. He was, in a way; my best friend.
Then I went to Dads over break. Mom got rid of Walter while I was gone and gave him to some bird shelter. I was devastated. I was crying for days, and sometimes I still cry. I never got to say goodbye to him. In fact, the last thing I said to him had been, "Love you, Walter. See you when I get home." I feel like I broke my promise. Where he is, I'm not even allowed to visit because the woman that owns the place won't allow it. I feel like my friend was stolen from me without warning.
So that's my little story on why I adore pigeons now. They're one of my favorite animals, along with bald eagles, turkeys, and vultures. Sounds strange, but I have my reasons. And now whenever I see a pigeon, a "rat with wings" is that last thing I think of. I pay attention to the cooing sounds they make. I pay attention to their red and orange fire-brimmed eyes. I look at how their neck feathers shine green and purple in the light, and the way the waddle around and tilt their heads. And I remember Walter.
So be careful if you happen to say anything negative about a pigeon in front of me, 'cause I'll never shut up. Just a fair warning. And if you've read this far, thanks. I just kind of needed to put this out there. Even if not many people will care to read it. So yeah. Ramble, ramble, ramble. Blog, blog, blog about random stuff.
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