The Sign of the Rock Pigeon

Yesterday S and I had a lovely lunchtime walk, the weather cool, but sunny. Suddenly S spoke:

“That guy had a pigeon sitting on his head,” he said. 

“What?” I hadn’t seen it.

“Go back and look.” 

So I did. A man stood in his yard, holding a mug of coffee. He wore a t-shirt, shorts, and a baseball cap. On that baseball cap sat a pigeon. Since I had come back to gawk at the man, I felt I should also make conversation. “Is that your friend?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. And I began to learn more of his story. He said he had found the pigeon young—that its parents didn’t want it because of its deformed foot and so he took it home to care for it. He said that inside they had a very large cage and that his wife covered up at night and opened up in the morning. He said they also try to keep it away from the bearded dragon’s cage. 

At one point the man coaxed the pigeon off of his head and “Sammy Lou” began to fly—toward me in fact. I held still wondering if he might land on my head. I was not disappointed. I asked S to get a picture. I could feel that my head was a little slippery for Sammy Lou—after all, he only had one foot with claws on it. Eventually he slid down far enough that he decided to fly back to the man's head. 

As this was happening, a woman walking a dog passed by, staring and commenting on the aberrant pigeon behavior. I’m pretty sure she didn’t want a bird on her head. S also said he was glad that the pigeon hadn't landed on his head.

It was only later, as we were walking home that it occurred to me that if Sammy Lou had sat on my head, he might have also pooped on my head, and I lifted a hand to check. Sure enough. I wiped my hand off on the bark of a nearby tree and when I got home, showered and changed my clothes.