At 3.38 am I am again awake. This time is supposed to be for a noble cause - for two days I've been trying to catch a baby pigeon, too young to survive on his own. He (I can't call him "it") sleeps on a freaking statue and looks so helpless and vulnerable that it breaks my heart. I might be called a sound misanthropist, but I have this weakness for animals in need.
A few years ago I was collecting stray dogs. Then, I changed the country (more than once) and I had to redirect my rescuer instinct toward other species. While having dogs I kept saying that I don't understand people who have birds as pets. What can you see in a bird? Life proved itself to be extremely ironic, so I ran into a sick pigeon and I couldn't help myself. Rather by a miracle than thanks to my actions the pigeon got better and I released him (or her?). Then I ran into another one, with a broken wing. The vet told me to euthanazie him, but I found him a nice spot as a chicken in the country house of a colleague. I know that he is too Buddhist to have made a steak out of my pigeon.
I changed countries again and I started to feed a few cats. No, not stray, but belonging to the neighbour into who's yard my widows were opening. I went home and at my return I found out that one of the cat died (her name was Bagheera, a beautiful blue cat whose tenderness was only equalled by her shyness). I kept feeding the second cat (called Chopper, because he was making the sounds of a helicopter when purring) until I moved out to a different city. The cat stayed where he was used to, our affair was over.
In the new place I kept finding pigeons. Caught by cats and injured, with threads wrapped around their fingers (in case you didn't know - when the thread is well wrapped there the pigeon can't get rid of it anymore. It starts to dig into the flesh until it reaches the bone of the swallen and infected finger(s) and then it separates the finger from the rest of the foot. That's how the bird gets rid of the thread, eventually and if he/she is lucky enough to survive the infection), sick by various diseases (yes, I started to learn their illnesses and the treatments) or in bad condition due to various factors. All went smooth until my dog led me to the first baby pigeon I ever raised.
Fritzy was a male, as I could notice when he grew up. But when Cara (my dog) found him, he was a very pathetic and ugly chicken fallen from the nest. He came with us and lived in a suitcase for a while. He somehow got the idea that Cara and me are his mums so a 3 months long love story between a dog and a pigeon began. Fritzy had as favourite landing spot Cara's back and as favourite sleeping place Cara's tail. Cara was trying to clean him and was quite amazed by the feathers - I've always supected she was expecting her son to have fur. And I was watching them, feeding them and of course cleaning after them.
I named his Fritzy because he seemed to have a sick passion for Rammstein's music and anything resembling German language. He was sitting on top of my laptop as hypnotized and listening to some good metal. Mummy's boy, what can I say...
One day Fritzy flew away through the open window. For two days he sat on the ouside margin of the building and refused to even look at the window. Then, he made a compromise with us - he was coming without any hesitations through the window, going to his corner on the floor, eating all the seeds he could take and then taking a nap on the top shelf of the bookcase. One day we moved out and the story ended abruptly. I didn't want to take him with us and make him a pet - his life was among his own, not near humans and dogs.
During the months spent together I came to realize what a complex creature he is and I was amazed by his social skills and behaviours, by his ability to identify and recognize different persons, by the fact that he managed to signal his moods and communicate some emotions, even if at a very different level. And ever since I love birds and I do the best I can to help them, especially pigeons. So I go now to try to catch this new Fritzy.
Wish me luck.
A few years ago I was collecting stray dogs. Then, I changed the country (more than once) and I had to redirect my rescuer instinct toward other species. While having dogs I kept saying that I don't understand people who have birds as pets. What can you see in a bird? Life proved itself to be extremely ironic, so I ran into a sick pigeon and I couldn't help myself. Rather by a miracle than thanks to my actions the pigeon got better and I released him (or her?). Then I ran into another one, with a broken wing. The vet told me to euthanazie him, but I found him a nice spot as a chicken in the country house of a colleague. I know that he is too Buddhist to have made a steak out of my pigeon.
I changed countries again and I started to feed a few cats. No, not stray, but belonging to the neighbour into who's yard my widows were opening. I went home and at my return I found out that one of the cat died (her name was Bagheera, a beautiful blue cat whose tenderness was only equalled by her shyness). I kept feeding the second cat (called Chopper, because he was making the sounds of a helicopter when purring) until I moved out to a different city. The cat stayed where he was used to, our affair was over.
In the new place I kept finding pigeons. Caught by cats and injured, with threads wrapped around their fingers (in case you didn't know - when the thread is well wrapped there the pigeon can't get rid of it anymore. It starts to dig into the flesh until it reaches the bone of the swallen and infected finger(s) and then it separates the finger from the rest of the foot. That's how the bird gets rid of the thread, eventually and if he/she is lucky enough to survive the infection), sick by various diseases (yes, I started to learn their illnesses and the treatments) or in bad condition due to various factors. All went smooth until my dog led me to the first baby pigeon I ever raised.
Fritzy was a male, as I could notice when he grew up. But when Cara (my dog) found him, he was a very pathetic and ugly chicken fallen from the nest. He came with us and lived in a suitcase for a while. He somehow got the idea that Cara and me are his mums so a 3 months long love story between a dog and a pigeon began. Fritzy had as favourite landing spot Cara's back and as favourite sleeping place Cara's tail. Cara was trying to clean him and was quite amazed by the feathers - I've always supected she was expecting her son to have fur. And I was watching them, feeding them and of course cleaning after them.
I named his Fritzy because he seemed to have a sick passion for Rammstein's music and anything resembling German language. He was sitting on top of my laptop as hypnotized and listening to some good metal. Mummy's boy, what can I say...
One day Fritzy flew away through the open window. For two days he sat on the ouside margin of the building and refused to even look at the window. Then, he made a compromise with us - he was coming without any hesitations through the window, going to his corner on the floor, eating all the seeds he could take and then taking a nap on the top shelf of the bookcase. One day we moved out and the story ended abruptly. I didn't want to take him with us and make him a pet - his life was among his own, not near humans and dogs.
During the months spent together I came to realize what a complex creature he is and I was amazed by his social skills and behaviours, by his ability to identify and recognize different persons, by the fact that he managed to signal his moods and communicate some emotions, even if at a very different level. And ever since I love birds and I do the best I can to help them, especially pigeons. So I go now to try to catch this new Fritzy.
Wish me luck.
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