When Terry first asked me to write an item for her URL my feelings were mixed. Firstly I have no experience at writing professionally at all, secondly I had no idea what I should write about and thirdly I am no expert on anything, so why should I be so bold as to write about anything.
But as I cast around my surroundings, I found I was an expert on one thing. I have been very privileged to be the adopted mother of one of our Native Australian Crested Pigeons, LOL , yes , I said pigeon. Not your everyday run of the mill pigeon, like the ones you see in the parks, this is a native to Australia. They are slightly smaller than normal pigeons, very plain in their markings, mostly a light grey, with a little black and white in their wing feathers and a black crest on their head.
Please note, that all Australian flora and fauna are protected, even our most common of animals and birds and rightly so, however occasionally they need our help to survive and this was one of those special occasions.
It was back in January 1994 when we noticed this poor bedraggled little baby pigeon sitting on a pile of metal we had stacked against our mango tree. It was unusually cold that day, raining and windy. This baby pigeon was all fluffed up trying to keep warm as birds do. It was getting dark and we commented on where his parents might be. Thinking they were close by, we left him there hoping he would be ok. When it was dark we checked to see if he had gone with his parents, but no, he was still there alone, cold, wet and miserable. We brought him inside as he would not have survived without the warmth of his parents, we placed him in an old biscuit box with a hot water bottle wrapped in an old jumper, placed him in a dark room and allowed him to settle for the night. Rising at dawn in the morning, I took him back out to where we found him under the tree, hoping his parents may be still around. It was still cold, raining and windy, so I kept a careful eye out from the window, checking on him every now and then. When I looked again at 8 am, he was gone, I took a stroll outside to check he wasn't on the ground somewhere, but I could see no sign of him, I sighed a sigh of relief, his parents must have come to feed him and he�d flown off with them, another happy ending.
My thoughts returned to that little bird often that day, wondering where he was, if he was ok. About 3pm in the afternoon I suddenly had a thought, I had better just go check around thoroughly out under that tree, we did have rather a collection of bits and pieces there, I may have missed seeing him in the morning. Donning my raincoat and grabbing the umbrella I took a final stroll out around the tree. Imagine my shock to find this poor little bird, soaking wet, trying vainly to shelter under a piece of wood, he'd been there all day, no food, no warmth and he was almost dead. I felt so guilty, I quickly picked him up, placed him under my jumper next to my warm body and brought him inside again.
"Well" I thought to myself, "if you are to be saved, I had better know what to feed you and quickly". I picked up the telephone and called our local vet, he gave me the number of the "Wild Life Association" in our area.
"Do you have any canary seed?" the woman asked. I replied that I did have some wild bird seed, she advised me that if I sieved it and only kept the small seed that that would suffice for now. "But.." she added, "he will not open his beak like other birds do, you are going to have to push it into his beak" She then went on to explain what I would have to do every 2 hours of the day, every day. Taking a small piece of bread, wetting it in a saucer to make it quite sloppy, then taking a tiny piece of it and rolling it in the sieved canary seed making a small wet ball, open the bird's beak then quickly pushing the food into it's open beak. After a few hits and misses, we managed to get the first feeding over with without soaking his chest too much more than it already was.
Now this was a ritual I did every 2 hours every day for 2 months, by this time he was quite used to the procedure and readily came running when I tapped the top of the freezer where I kept his box. I no longer needed to keep him locked in the box, he slept in there quite readily during the day, I would place the wire grill in the front of his box at night to stop him taking fright and flying blindly around during the darkness.
It was time, I thought, to give him his freedom, with a twinge of sadness I carried him outside, put his box on the grass, near where I feed the wild birds and waited.
And waited, and waited but no sign of him, he was quite content to wait in that box, so, I took him out of the box and placed him on the ground, I picked up the box and walked toward the door of the house, he beat me inside. LOL. "Oh well", I thought, "maybe he's not ready yet to try it on his own" but secretly I was happy, I would have him a few more days yet.
Well, the days turned to weeks, and the weeks turned to months and I realized that he and I were an "item", one no good without the other.
He follows me everywhere, when I walk around the house, I hear the pitter patter, pitter patter of little pigeon feet running along behind me where ever I go, he does fly, and fly well, but would rather run along with me.
I named him Voot Voot, because that's the noise he makes when he's calling me, he is also a budding watchdog, making a high pitched "voot" sound when a car comes up our driveway. He only enters his "biscuit box" now to eat and drink, he sleeps on the back of a chair I have placed in our bedroom for him.
Now, living with someone as odd as me, he was bound to have developed some weird characteristics, and he has. If you have ever taken the time to observe pigeons in the wild, the males have a strange little dance they do to attract the females, called "bowing", whereby they stamp their feet, curve their backs and spread their tail feathers to impress their "lady love". Now, I'm pretty sure I have normal feet, but for some strange reason Vootey is in love with them. If I am bare footed he will bow to my feet then try the unmentionable on them. He has developed a "foot fetish". Very embarrassing when we have visitors and they happen to be bare footed also LOL. But usually they are so fascinated by having a wild pigeon so close to them they forgive him (and me hopefully).
He is also an alcoholic pigeon, I enjoy a glass of white wine after dinner, usually we relax in front of TV after dinner, so of course he is on my shoulder the minute he sees my glass of wine. Sips wine from my mouth until I stop him, I never allow him to over imbibe, just a few sips. Then he immediately rolls over onto his side, with his wing in the air, for me to kiss him under his wing (told you he had strange characteristics). Sometimes he is so intent on putting his wing up, that he actually rolls right off my shoulder on to my lap. This tells me he has definitely had enough sips of wine and it is now time for bed for Vootey.
We rarely need an alarm clock of a morning, for at the first ray of light, like any other bird, he is awake and raring to go for the day. So beginning with my husband, he systematically wakes us up by dancing, stamping and bowing on our heads, very effective alarm clock that. Not everyone has their alarm clock dance on their heads in the mornings do they?
I could keep writing about this little wonder until the "cows come home" however, I'm sure Terry requires some space left on her URL for other items.
I do hope you enjoyed reading about my Voot Voot, for he is really special to me and I do hope you enjoy the photographs.
So when you see a pigeon in future, don't think "oh yes, just a pigeon" because folks, these little birds have real personality.
Best wishes to you all, and a special thank you to Terry for allowing me to share my story with you. |
