Rocky, the Pigeon, Came for Coffee
There wasn’t anyone off-limits for a colorful conversation with the young girl whose imagination knew no bounds. While growing up, my mother referred to me as Chatty Cathy, the talking doll of the 50s and 60s. My mother would poke her head into my bedroom late at night, wondering who in the world captured my attention this time.
My mother taught me to care for whatever crossed my path. She had large-scale paintings and photographs depicting all Mother Nature offered. In my mother’s eyes, every day was Earth Day.
As a grown woman, I’ve been accused of being a softie. I cry tears of joy holding a puppy, although I never allow anyone to see. If someone’s telling their heart-breaking story, I want to put on my sunglasses, however, that’d be rude. I marvel at the crickets and frogs every evening as they perform their choir meant only for me. They sing, I’m grateful and everyone’s happy.
Last night around 7:00, I went onto my backyard to move the sprinkler around after its 30-minute section was thoroughly soaked. A pigeon began circling and finally landed a few feet away on the sidewalk. I immediately thought it peculiar to have a bird instantly feel comfortable in my presence.
The sun was no longer blasting me like a furnace, therefore, I sat down in one of my chairs to relax. The bird took no time hopping toward me. However, I noticed it was hopping on only one leg! When it was at my feet, I took a close look at its injured leg and discovered its three toes were badly mangled.
The pigeon appeared to be a Rock Pigeon, therefore, it wasn’t long before I attached a name and a gender. I asked Rocky what happened to his leg and why he decided my backyard was the place to be. With every word, Rocky’s head tilted sideways. Was he truly curious and interested in what I was saying, or did he think I was off my rocker?
I brought some granola out for Rocky and set it on the ground. He had a bite to eat and jumped onto the chair next to me. I told him to stay at my home as long as he needed and wanted. I wondered whether he had a family worried sick because he was away from them. I talked into the evening and he eventually grew weary.
Rocky crouched down into a ball of feathers and his tiny dark eyelids began fluttering. Although he didn’t want to miss a word I relayed, he couldn’t hold his eyes open any longer. Rocky tucked his head down low and his long beak became invisible in his neck feathers. I bid Rocky good-night and sweet dreams.
I crawled into bed and wondered about my new friend. Would he be safe during the night with only one working leg? What if a band of raccoon decided Rocky would be their feast? I tossed and turned with concern for Rocky’s well-being. I finally dozed off and was shaken out of a sound sleep by a nightmare.
During my horrific dream, a white cobra was on the back porch railing with his ugly head reared near Rocky. I jumped out of bed and charged at the cobra and ordered him to stay away from my pigeon. I awoke with my heart pounding and opened the sliding door to check on Rocky. He was sound asleep in the red chair exactly as I left him.
The following morning, I awoke at 6:15 and peeked out of my sliding door to check on Rocky. Would he still be there? Would there be merely a pile of lifeless feathers? To my astonishment, Rocky was sitting up in the chair with his eyes wide open. I was thrilled he decided to stay and was fit as a fiddle. I told Rocky I’d be back in 10 minutes and we’d visit some more. I was excited to have kind-hearted company!
I raced back inside to make a cup of coffee, grab a blanket, put on a sweater and a pair of fuzzy slippers. As promised, I went back outside to join Rocky, however, when I walked toward our favorite red chairs, I was saddened to see Rocky’s chair empty. Perhaps due to his injury, he desperately needed a safe haven for the night. I didn’t mind being a fly-by for him.
I’ve been a Chatty Cathy since my years as a tiny tot. My mother used to say I could sell ice cubes to Eskimoes. Even though my imagination runs wild with friends from the Great Beyond, I’ll always remember Rocky, the pigeon, who came for coffee.
