Amazing Kids! Magazine

The Brave Pigeon

By Eidya

 

I never thought of writing about a mere pigeon so seriously, but two days back the quick change of events moved me so much that I had to grab a piece of paper and write this true story. I do not want to fictionalize it, as it would be an insult to the brave little bird. My dad reads the Chinese book of changes and keeps harping on the significance of change in our lives and how change holds our world together. I as a child was so accustomed to the regular routine of my daily life that I felt his philosophy to be a bit over the top thing. However, that day when he came to fetch me home, he just mentioned about an injured little pigeon sitting under our front porch and that he and his assistant were trying to help it by securing it in a wire cage so that it could be kept safe from cats and other predators till it recovered from its wounds. He also told me that from the wounds of the little bird, it appeared that the little bird wrenched itself free from the talons of a raptor. We take a walk through an adjoining park to reach our home which lies just a few yards away from my school. The park is full of beautiful flowers, nice lawns and wind-blown trees. There are many birds too, which chirp and dance and sing and hop from branch to branch and fly away. As a child growing up in this surrounding, I always found this nature’s corner in our crowded city as a toy world where things were perfect and beautiful. How could a bird who is so free of care and can fly in the sky so joyfully be ever in trouble? The thought of a little bird bleeding at my doorstep was like a beautiful cloud fallen like a heap in my backyard and turning into mud – very very unreal indeed.

As soon as my dad opened the front gate, I was faced with the horrible sight of the bird sitting a bit away from two large patched of crimson blood. I was shocked beyond words. I immediately felt an intense desire to save the poor little injured bird. It indeed was a young rock pigeon which quietly stood in a corner. My dad planned to clear a nearby air cooler of its fittings to turn it into a makeshift hospital cage for the bird. He asked his assistant to clear the cooler box quickly, while he rushed inside to fetch some grains and pulses for the little bird to feed. I stood with a stick a bit away to shoo away any cat if it approached the poor bird.  Within minutes the cooler box was cleared and dad got the pulses and water. His assistant grew up in a forest and knows well how to handle animals and birds. In the past also he used to help raise little bulbul chicks to their nest in an abandoned electrical switchboard in the front of our house.

So, we were all set now to lift the little pigeon and to put it inside its hospital room along with its feed, water and a bit of antibiotics to its wounds. In the meantime, my dad went inside again to look for something and his assistant Kishore uncle cautiously went near the little bird to hold it. And in the flash of a moment, the little pigeon lifted its wings, fluttered them violently and scooted away outside the iron gate which we had kept latched to prevent any stray dog from getting in to get the bird. It happened in a flash. There was a blood stain on one of the iron bars in the gate from where the little bird had slipped out. Kishore uncle rushed out to look for the bird, but it had vanished, apparently into a fenced area on the pavement which is a makeshift garden raised by our neighbour. In a crowd of potted plants and small bushes, we tried to look for the little pigeon, but to no avail. We came back and with a heavy heart stood with our heads stooping. It was a shock none of us were prepared for. After a few moments, my father wanted to look again for the bird, so another search was conducted, but still, no results. I felt so much of a shock that my mind went numb. Dad was talking with Kishore uncle about the poor pigeon’s prospects of surviving. They discussed among themselves and what I could faintly hear in the middle of my shocked state was that the chances of the poor little pigeon surviving out on the roadside were close to none. They again mounted a frenzied search, yet without success.

The sudden change of events really dazed me; my dad was more philosophical. In spite of his sense of sadness, he felt that if the little pigeon could escape from the claws of a raptor and then run away to its freedom from a man-made hospital cage, it had a lot of strength to take life head on. It was a brave pigeon who prized its freedom over anything else. Man tries to overshadow nature, but nature still escapes. May be to the little pigeon we all were monsters who got it scared since its coming out from its egg. Truly, I told my dad, there are so many children and cruel human beings among us who would have merciless tied a ropt and dragged it or would have simply killed it for its meat. How would have the little pigeon known about our intentions. They say that birds and animals have a greater sixth sense than we have. So, even if it understood our intentions to save it, it was so brave as to spare us the trouble and to remain in the wild. Who would believe me as I write these words – pigeons are well known for becoming easy pets. Why would a little bleeding pigeon be so freedom loving and wild in a metropolis like Delhi? Such a little bird could indeed show me the spirit of wild nature, in the middle of a world which seems all so tamed and systematic. It is my homage to that free little bird, wherever it may be now. As a human child, I lack the courage to be so bold and brave. They would even call it foolish if I attempted something like it in my life. The cost for the brave bird could have been death, but the spirit that made it escape from the raptor also prompted it to run free from our house too. Even if the bird was foolish, I respect its spirit. I bow my head thinking of it. That day was spent in its thoughts. Even now I try to unravel the message that bird’s appearing on our doorstep had for me. How life changes with every fleeting moment. No, not even that, how the world changes within a flash, the feeling refuses to leave me. Yet the spirit the little bird showed was the true spirit of being brave and to struggle on with dignity. By running away to its freedom, the graceful creature even made us free of any responsibility. It was not a rejection, now I understand as I write, it was the sheer manifestation of a free bird, the idea that made the first creature leap up in the air and try to fly.