I don't need to tell you that SHE loves all kinds of birds, including, I regret to say Feral Doves... aka London Pigeons.
This Tale will take you back to how HER Friendship (for it truly is such a thing) with several of these birds began.
On the 7th of March, 1990, SHE walked up her stairs to find a big pigeon trying to kill a much smaller one who was squeaking in fear. SHE knocked the big one off the baby's back, scooped it up and took it back into the flat.
SHE had Dagga-the-Parrot in the flat, so SHE shut the baby in the bathroom and went to get the antisptic, mite powder that you always keep if you have keep birds, it kills all possible types of bugs but is harmless to birds and humans, with it SHE went back into the bathroom and examined the baby Pigeon.
It had several bites on his back and a few feathers were broken but the most surprising thing was that HE had NO tail.
HE had probably been born in a nest on top of OUR house and one day, mother Pigeon had thought it was a fine day for his first flying lesson. All well and good but mother Pigeon had not examined the rudder on her little baby flying machine and so when she jumped off the roof expecting him to follow her, he did but having no tail, meant he had plummeted to the ground.
SHE gave him a warm bath with special bird shampoo, blew him dry with the hair dryer on cool and dusted him off with the antiseptic mite powder. He loved the fuss being made of him, SHE collected a small amount of bird seed and a shallow dish of water and put him to settle down in the bath on an old towel.
Meanwhile, this time Dagga-the-Parrot was most suspicious of the noises coming from behind the closed bathroom door, why was the door closed? WE don't 'close' doors very often in this house, what was going on in there?
SHE came out and told him about this POOR bird SHE had found, what could SHE have done differently? SHE also, rather sneakily, reminded D-the-P that HE had been a 'Rescue case' and went off to make tea.
Without a tail you cannot fly and Peter Pigeon, for this was his new name, did not appear to be growing a tail, which was curious. Otherwise, his plumage was Classic London Pigeon, he was pale to dark grey, with irridescent feathers around his neck and a Corporal's 2 stripes on his wings. A beautiful bird with a bare bum.
One day SHE was going down the hall following Peter Pigeon, when suddenly, his head whipped round, he seized something with his beak and threw it on the floor, then proceeded on towards the bathroom. She stopped and picked up the discard object and realised it was a feather that has yet to have the shaft removed. The answer to the 'bare bottom mystery' was that Peter Pigeon had been pulling his tail feathers out as fast as they were trying to grow!
A small amount of Olive Oil and a little gentle scratch every day stopped the plucking and before too long, HE was strutting about with the proper amount of feathers and a very glossy back end!
SHE didn't really think about the flying too much, he had not got his tail until HE was well over 18 months old and SHE knew that without a tail HE would not have survived in the wild (aka deepest Knightsbridge) and SHE accepted the fact that SHE, because of HER action of bringing him into HER home meant that SHE was now responsible for the length of his life time.
HE 'knew' that his wings were for something but he wasn't quite sure what! He would sometimes flap them in a rather disorganised fashion and get lift off of MAYBE 3 inches off the ground, but then HE would get either bored or tired, stop and thump back to earth again. So his mode of transport was that HE strutted or ran at high speed to wherever he wanted to go.
Late 1996, a charming man re-appeared in her life, we'll call him Pilot and after a few months, SHE thought that a supper party at home would be a easy way to introduce him to few of HER friend all at the same time.. Pilot would either crash or fly, as it were!
Now Dagga-the-Parrot's anniversary was May 9th, too far away, but Peter Pigeon's was much nearer as it was the 7th of March, perfect. So SHE sent out invitations for 'Peter's Birthday Party' the dress was casual but with ONE exception, the men were to wear RED socks.
All of the invitations were accepted, Pilot wrote to say that he would certainly be coming but that he would not be able to arrive until 9pm as he was flying a plane back from France that afternoon and he would be settling papers with the Customs at Bournemouth Airport BUT that he would certainly wear RED socks.. He did not inquire who Peter was.
Everyone arrived, supper was served, there were more people than could sit around our small dining table so people were sitting on the sofa and arm chairs, the wine was flowing, the Pilot arrived punctually at 9pm in RED socks, He was introduced to everyone but then said to HER, "why did you ask me to wear these" and he pulled up his trouser leg, whereupon Prince Charles Tchkotoua, a Georgian Prince, Murray Beauclerk, aka The Duke of St.Albans and Tom Tolar, a charming American, all pulled up their trouser legs and said "we are ALL wearing them Pilot" And with that, Helena, Princess Tchkotoua laughed and went out of the room, she came back in holding Peter, HE adored Helena, and she said "this party is not only being held for you to meet all of us Pilot, it is, actually, Peter's Birthday and HE wears RED socks all the time".
It is a good sight when 4 'grown-up' men start to laugh.. A English Duke, a Georgian Prince, a charming American and a Pilot.
They laughed until the tears ran down their faces, watched by their women who smiled and the Pigeon who never flew.
GeeGeeParrot.
January 7th, 2012.
This Tale will take you back to how HER Friendship (for it truly is such a thing) with several of these birds began.
On the 7th of March, 1990, SHE walked up her stairs to find a big pigeon trying to kill a much smaller one who was squeaking in fear. SHE knocked the big one off the baby's back, scooped it up and took it back into the flat.
SHE had Dagga-the-Parrot in the flat, so SHE shut the baby in the bathroom and went to get the antisptic, mite powder that you always keep if you have keep birds, it kills all possible types of bugs but is harmless to birds and humans, with it SHE went back into the bathroom and examined the baby Pigeon.
It had several bites on his back and a few feathers were broken but the most surprising thing was that HE had NO tail.
HE had probably been born in a nest on top of OUR house and one day, mother Pigeon had thought it was a fine day for his first flying lesson. All well and good but mother Pigeon had not examined the rudder on her little baby flying machine and so when she jumped off the roof expecting him to follow her, he did but having no tail, meant he had plummeted to the ground.
SHE gave him a warm bath with special bird shampoo, blew him dry with the hair dryer on cool and dusted him off with the antiseptic mite powder. He loved the fuss being made of him, SHE collected a small amount of bird seed and a shallow dish of water and put him to settle down in the bath on an old towel.
Meanwhile, this time Dagga-the-Parrot was most suspicious of the noises coming from behind the closed bathroom door, why was the door closed? WE don't 'close' doors very often in this house, what was going on in there?
SHE came out and told him about this POOR bird SHE had found, what could SHE have done differently? SHE also, rather sneakily, reminded D-the-P that HE had been a 'Rescue case' and went off to make tea.
Without a tail you cannot fly and Peter Pigeon, for this was his new name, did not appear to be growing a tail, which was curious. Otherwise, his plumage was Classic London Pigeon, he was pale to dark grey, with irridescent feathers around his neck and a Corporal's 2 stripes on his wings. A beautiful bird with a bare bum.
One day SHE was going down the hall following Peter Pigeon, when suddenly, his head whipped round, he seized something with his beak and threw it on the floor, then proceeded on towards the bathroom. She stopped and picked up the discard object and realised it was a feather that has yet to have the shaft removed. The answer to the 'bare bottom mystery' was that Peter Pigeon had been pulling his tail feathers out as fast as they were trying to grow!
A small amount of Olive Oil and a little gentle scratch every day stopped the plucking and before too long, HE was strutting about with the proper amount of feathers and a very glossy back end!
SHE didn't really think about the flying too much, he had not got his tail until HE was well over 18 months old and SHE knew that without a tail HE would not have survived in the wild (aka deepest Knightsbridge) and SHE accepted the fact that SHE, because of HER action of bringing him into HER home meant that SHE was now responsible for the length of his life time.
HE 'knew' that his wings were for something but he wasn't quite sure what! He would sometimes flap them in a rather disorganised fashion and get lift off of MAYBE 3 inches off the ground, but then HE would get either bored or tired, stop and thump back to earth again. So his mode of transport was that HE strutted or ran at high speed to wherever he wanted to go.
Late 1996, a charming man re-appeared in her life, we'll call him Pilot and after a few months, SHE thought that a supper party at home would be a easy way to introduce him to few of HER friend all at the same time.. Pilot would either crash or fly, as it were!
Now Dagga-the-Parrot's anniversary was May 9th, too far away, but Peter Pigeon's was much nearer as it was the 7th of March, perfect. So SHE sent out invitations for 'Peter's Birthday Party' the dress was casual but with ONE exception, the men were to wear RED socks.
All of the invitations were accepted, Pilot wrote to say that he would certainly be coming but that he would not be able to arrive until 9pm as he was flying a plane back from France that afternoon and he would be settling papers with the Customs at Bournemouth Airport BUT that he would certainly wear RED socks.. He did not inquire who Peter was.
Everyone arrived, supper was served, there were more people than could sit around our small dining table so people were sitting on the sofa and arm chairs, the wine was flowing, the Pilot arrived punctually at 9pm in RED socks, He was introduced to everyone but then said to HER, "why did you ask me to wear these" and he pulled up his trouser leg, whereupon Prince Charles Tchkotoua, a Georgian Prince, Murray Beauclerk, aka The Duke of St.Albans and Tom Tolar, a charming American, all pulled up their trouser legs and said "we are ALL wearing them Pilot" And with that, Helena, Princess Tchkotoua laughed and went out of the room, she came back in holding Peter, HE adored Helena, and she said "this party is not only being held for you to meet all of us Pilot, it is, actually, Peter's Birthday and HE wears RED socks all the time".
It is a good sight when 4 'grown-up' men start to laugh.. A English Duke, a Georgian Prince, a charming American and a Pilot.
They laughed until the tears ran down their faces, watched by their women who smiled and the Pigeon who never flew.
GeeGeeParrot.
January 7th, 2012.
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