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As a boy of eleven, my summers were full of fishing, baseball, tennis, golf, shooting guns, walking in the woods with my dog, berry picking and last, snagging snakes off the Iron bridge with my fishing pole. However this summer I wanted to do something different. I would sit under our old pear tree, read National Geographic, and day dream of far away places. Then one day I went down to the Buffalo Creek to skip some rocks. Just below the Iron bridge there was a long sand bar with plenty of small flat rocks. This sand bar extend underneath the bridge and blended into another bar just above it. I had skipped rocked for better than an hour and began to tire. So I found a nice sunny, warm, dry sandy spot, laid back and closed my eyes. As I lay there soaking up the suns rays, every so often I could hear the sound of pigeons flying over my head. I opened my eyes and just the right over my head, in a high remote location of the bridge, a mother pigeon was feeding her baby. I laid there the better part of an hour watching this happen over and over again. I thought to myself, it sure takes allot of time to raise a baby pigeon. Watching all of this feeding I began to get hungry and decided to go home for some lunch. Lunch at our house was a time when I could sit down with my mother and talk about things that bothered me or things that I just simply wondered about. I told her about the hard working mother pigeon that feed her baby ever so many minutes and never seemed to get tired. Mother just smiled and said, what do you think I had to do when you were a baby? I had to feed you every two hours, day and night and change your diaper each time. This she explained went on for several weeks until I began to sleep all night. Wow I thought, I wonder if I could ever do a thing like that for a baby? Mother explained that a mother's love is a very deep felt devotion towards raising her child so that they can grow and become an adult and have their own family someday. I ask her if she thought I would do that some day? Mother just sat there, placed her soft warm hand on my face and smiled. That night I had a hard time falling asleep. I wondered how was I going to learn how to feed a baby. All of my brothers were older than me and most of the time they were off doing things that they wanted to do and that did not include me. Maybe I thought, I could raise a baby animal. My cousin Patty had raised a raccoon and a ground hog. Perhaps I could find one and do the same. The next morning I told my dad about my plans. He told me it was to late in the year and that the young had already left the nest and were already on there own. He told me that it would be a good experience for me however I should consider it next spring. When dad told me to wait, my heart just sunk. I was so disappointed. So to make the best of things, I got my fishing pole and walked down to the Iron Bridge with my dad. My dad knew I was disappointed so before he went on to work. He looked down at me, patted me on the shoulder, and said, "don't hurry things Joe". Go have a good day fishing and catch me a big bass for the Friday meal. Fishing was perfect in the early morning, especially if I could catch me some soft shell crabs. So I slipped down the ladder attached to the center of the bridge and set about catching me some bait. I had caught about a half dozen decent crabs when I head a pigeon over my head. It was the mother pigeon bring some food to her baby. I baited my hook and went about catching some bass for the table. I had caught three bass when on one of my cast, I snagged a part of the underlying bridge structure. I thought how in the heck am I going to get that loose. So up the ladder I climbed until I was only a few feet from my hook. When I reached for my hook, there on a stone ledge, only three arm lengths from me was the most beautiful white and black baby pigeon that I had ever seen. It had most of it's feathers and looked almost ready to fly. At about this time I could hear the mother pigeon coming in for a landing. So I swung back out to the ladder and just peeked my head around to see what was going to happen. There I could see the mother pigeon placing her beak into the babies mouth and regurgitating half digested food into it. I thought how in the world could I raise a pigeon. There's was no way I was going to throw up food and spit it into it's mouth. Boy oh boy I thought, mother was right about that deep devotion that a mother has for her young one. It certainly didn't look like I was going to be a parent any time soon. That evening when my father came home, he ask me about my fishing that day. I told him that mother had put three nice bass in the freezer for us. Then I exclaimed that it would be awhile before I became a devoted parent. My dad ask why I felt that way. So I went through the hole ordeal that I had seen under the Iron Bridge. He began to laugh and told me that there might be other ways to feed the baby pigeon and that I should go over to Margaret Ice's house, that was the farm next door, and ask her for any suggestions. Miss Ice was somewhere in her 90's at the time, and had experience raising about every kind of animal known to man. She was confined to a bed and for convenience they had moved her bed to her sun room where she had a view of her garden, hey field and just about anything I was doing. She had a pair of high powered glasses to view it all. I knocked on her door and I heard her yell to me. Is that you Joey, come in to the sun room. For someone who had ridden her cows, horses, pigs and nearly burned down her hey stack a time or two, she was very kind to me. She always gave me some cookies and milk when I came to visit her. Now what can I do for you, Margaret ask, in a soft shaky voice. I told her that I wanted to become a parent and that my dad thought that she could help me. With that, she sat straight up in bed and looked over her glasses at me. A sheepish looking smile came across her face and then she said, go on Joey tell me more. I began to tell her the hole story about me wanting to learn how to become a devoted parent and that I had the opportunity to raise a pigeon. I ask her if she knew anything about raising one from a baby. She said when she was a little girl that she had raised a few on her own, but it took allot of time and patience. She explained that placing small rolled up balls of bread down their throats would take care of the feeding. She said when the little bird had enough to eat, it would pull it's head back and not open it's mouth. So the trick was to feed it several round balls of bread at one feeding and it would not need anything else to eat for three or four hours at a time. After a few hours of chatting, I went home, and sat down with my dad and explained the process. After thoroughly discussing it, he said OK. You can go get your pigeon, but be careful and not get hurt. However I do have one question for you. What made Margaret think that you were going to propose to her. I just sat there with a dumb founded look on my face, wondering what in the world he was talking about. Never mind Joey, he laughed, go get your pigeon. It was getting late so I decided to get a fresh start in the morning. That way I could prepare a nest where it could rest and sleep. That evening I acted just like a mother bird, collecting feathers from the hen house, string from my mothers sewing basket, and small pieces of shredded bark at the grape vineyard and with all of this I placed it loosely together with some mud. By morning, it was dry and perfectly formed for the new baby. Early that next morning, I was dressed and out of the house before anyone had gotten out of bed. I wore a tight fitting jacket with a draw string in the waist band. I knew it was not going to be an easy task to retrieve the little bird and that I would need both of my hands to maneuver under the bridge. As I approached the bridge my heart was pounding with excitement. Quietly as I could, I climbed down the ladder located in the center of the bridge. As I made a move to swing under the bridge, every pigeon in town must have been sleeping under it. A tremendous whirling of wings came flying by my head and arms. I guess I must of been there earlier than the bird who normally gets the worm. At least I thought I would not have to fight off any mother bird protecting it young. The center of the bridge was supported by huge stone blocks and several tie rods ran it's entire length. So If I were careful I could swing from tie rod to tie rod until I reached the baby. I could always climb good and was one of the best on the giant swings at the No. 7 playground. So I felt very confident that I could make the climb, get the baby pigeon, and climb back without falling into the creek which flowed some 15 feet below me. As I swung like a monkey from rod to rod, the little pigeon moved sideways farther and farther from me with each of my moves. What I thought was going to be a piece of cake, was turning out to be a survival test for me along. I had traversed about 10 feet of the bridge when I found a foot hold between the stones which allowed me to rest. After gaining my strength, I checked to see where the baby was located and to my surprise it was only an arms length away. So I quickly grabbed it up and stuffed it in my jacket. Next I had to swing back to the ladder. The trip back seemed much easier and before I knew it I was climbing up the ladder and on my way home. I was so excited. I had never had a wild live animal in my hands before and I was going to be a parent. When I got home, I went straight into the kitchen to show my mother and dad. They were having a cup of coffee and when I opened my jacket, my mother said, you really did it, you really did it. Now what are you going to do with that pigeon? Well I exclaimed, I going to be it's mother. My dad's next words were, what are you going to name it. I stood there a moment and said, Pee Pee. I remembered the sounds that it made all of the way home in my jacket....Pee Pee, Pee Pee. That seemed like an appropriate name for the little pigeon. Well that sounds like a good name Joe, I suppose you had better feed it before you get your breakfast. It was at that moment that I realized the baby was to come first and then me second. It was a startling realization for an eleven year old who had been himself the baby of the family. During that summer I feed Pee Pee by hand and then out of my hand. One day after feeding him, a group of wild pigeons came flying over our heads. In just one move, he went from being my baby, to leaving home. He without warning, few straight out through the apple trees and joined the other birds in the sky. I was spell bound and speechless. How could my baby leave me without even saying goodbye. No sooner than I had thought this, here came Pee Pee flying like an angel back to me. He landed on my shoulder and began his song Pee Pee Pee. I remember he did a little dance on my shoulder and picked on my ear lobe to say don't worry everything is OK. That day really worried me because I thought someday he might just take off and not come home to me. I ask my mother about it, and she said that everyone has to grow up and eventually make a home of there own and Pee Pee was no different than people. However she was quick to tell me that visiting your parents was part of growing up and that Pee Pee would not forget me. Each day Pee Pee's stayed away longer and longer. But every evening as the wild flock of pigeons would fly over, I would run out into the yard and wave my arms, yelling Pee Pee Pee and as sure as God made little green apples, Pee Pee would drive down, land on my shoulder, pick me on the ear lobe, do her dance and then fly up to her roost behind the basketball banking board. I knew she needed a friend to keep her company, so I went down to the bridge to survey the new baby pigeons. To my surprise, there was a baby almost ready to leave the nest. It was a beautiful maroon color and when the sun shined on it's feathers they sparkled. This pigeon I though would be the perfect playmate for Pee Pee. Not waiting for the next morning, I Immediately climbed under the bridge and placed him in my shirt. In the next short month, Pee Pee and Big Red became very good friends and soon they were sleeping behind the basketball banking board together. That next spring, they few together and visited their relatives at the Iron bridge. One day while I was fishing the sand bar at their old home place. I looked up to see Pee Pee, Big Red and about twenty other pigeons doing a dance on the bridge support beams. When I saw this, I called and waved my arms and like clock work, down they came to me. I gave each a little talk and told them that this was where they were born and that it was only right that they visit their parents. That evening when they came home to roost, I felt like something was different. I didn't know what it was but I knew something was going to change. Awaking the next morning, my mother yelled to me, "Joe! Joe! come see, come see. I looked out the window and to my surprise, Pee Pee and Big Red were building a love nest behind the banking board. This was a great moment for me. I ran back into the bed room to put my clothes on and then hurried to the kitchen door. No Joe, it's there time now. You must let them build their own house or they will leave. But mother they don't know how to do it, I exclaimed in a desperate voice. I can help them get chicken feathers and bark from the grapes and mud and .......no Joe, please let them do it by their selves. A good parent who loves their children will let them do it together. That late summer two babies were hatched and to my surprise, when the little ones were ready, they few down with their parents and had a lunching of bread on my shoulders. It was a common site to see me with four pigeons standing on my shoulders and me trying to cut the grass. Raising the pigeons were full lessons and now I can see some 50 years later why my mother and father allowed me to raise Pee Pee. It was still hard for me to see my children leave home and make their own way. However the lessons that I learned from Pee Pee and her family have made it easier for me to accept. Years later, our home was visited by Pee Pee's grandchildren and their grandchildren. In fact it was not uncommon to see fifty or sixty pigeons hanging out at our place. Everyone on them from time to time would come down from the roof top and eat bread from my shoulders. It was like Pee Pee had told them the same stories that I had told her and I loved them all. So it was, I grew up, left home and raised my children and the grandchildren now come to visit. |
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