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Bill
and Coo
Bill
and Coo were white, fan-tailed pigeons who taught my husband and I to love them,
as we also taught them how to fly. They
were supposed to be a Valentines gift, released on that special day as a symbol
of our love flying into the heavens, safe with one another.
It was a lovely thought, but the pigeons had no idea that they could be
airborne. They were startled by the
possibility. I think they thought
we were being purposefully cruel, throwing them up into the air … and not
catching them.
Bill
and Coo must have lived in cages all their short lives because they had not a
smidge of an idea about the whole business of flapping one’s wings for any
other reason than alarm and general unsettledness. It was a bizarre
situation, but we realised we now had two new pets, and it was up to us to teach
our feathered babies the unknown art of flying. We all accepted our roles
without question. We learnt how to look after birds, Bill and Coo learnt
to fly, and we all learnt to love one another.
We
thought Bill and Coo would leave us as soon as they recovered their basic
instincts. We thought that as soon as they could fly away into freedom,
they would. But they didn’t. They stayed for almost a year.
We were home. We were Mum and Dad.
Every
morning, we would open their aviary and out would strut Bill and Coo. They
loved their open cage. It was their private area and they ran back into
this bedroom whenever they wanted a rest and sense of safety. Bill and Coo
insisted we treat them as adored pets, while thy wandered at our heals ensuring
“the family” all kept together. We had no idea our feathered friends
would like to fly so rarely while they seemed to like walking so much. We
were very confused parents of pigeons, and we decided early on in our feathered
parenthood, that the best course of action was the one involving the least
worry.
We
guessed, correctly, that Bill and Coo would know what to do with their lives and
each other. We made the learning-to-fly experience a game, encouraging
each bird to fly a little more every day.
Eventually
they circled higher and higher into the sky and winged away out of our sight.
As Mom and Dad, we were naturally saddened by our “babies” leaving our nest,
but we still felt proud that our “children” had moved onto their next
adventure. Our “children” however felt that being away from Mummy and
Daddy for a few minutes was quite a big enough adventure for any little pigeon,
and came home, expecting masses of love and praise, and their usual dinner.
They
began flying away every day, but they always came home. Once or twice
during the sunlit hours, Bill and Coo would stretch their wings and fly
effortlessly into the blue sky. They never stayed away for more than a few
hours at a time. They sailed home through the airy waves, always thrilled
if their human parents were waiting to greet them. At the end of the day,
before the sun had extinguished its light, both Bill and Coo would be back in
their human-built home, expecting us to come and say goodnight and lock their
door against night-time nasties.
We
were thrilled when our “children” built their very own nest. We were
even more thrilled when Coo laid the cutest little eggs. We were going to
be grandparents! Coo was a wonderful expectant mother staying firmly on
her unhatched babies, giving them her warmth and love.
It
wasn’t enough. One day we heartbrokenly discovered the eggs on the
ground below the nest. Something had gone terribly wrong. We were
heartbroken for Coo and Bill. But Bill and Coo were determined.
Bill
regularly mounted Coo, pecking away her neck fathers. We regularly found
new, and possibly living, eggs in their lonely nest. But every few days we
would find those same eggs on the floor. It was very disturbing. It
obviously upset both birds terribly, in very different ways.
Bill
became angry. He seemed to have decided the problem was with Coo. He
always seemed to be annoyed with her. He consistently pulled her feathers.
Poor Coo became more and more depressed. She couldn’t have tried harder.
She kept laying eggs. She kept sitting on them. She kept kicking the
dead eggs out, and trying again. She must have been very desperate.
Finally
Coo sat and sat on her last batch of eggs. She sat for a very long time.
We thought we finally had “grandchildren” bird babies on the way. We
assumed the eggs must be healthy. Coo didn’t kick them out of the nest.
Coo sat and sat. We waited and waited.
Then,
just as we were thinking “birds took a lot longer to hatch than we thought
they did”, Coo went for a daily exercise of the wings … and didn’t come
back. Coo didn’t say ‘Goodbye’. The eggs were unfertilised,
and empty. We waited and waited. We scanned the skies.
Nothing. Coo was gone. She had left us. She had left Bill.
Bill
was devastated. He lost weight. He lost feathers. We were very
worried about him. The vet assured us there was nothing physically wrong
with him. Bill was “merely grieving”. Bill had lost heart and
hope, as well as his closest companion. We thought at the time, how silly
the vet was for saying Bill was merely grieving – anyone who has grieved will
know there is nothing “mere” about it!
Poor
Bill! We couldn’t bear watching his misery. We wanted to give him
another friend, as quickly as possible. We looked and looked but we
couldn’t find another fan-tailed pigeon in any pet store, anywhere. We
didn’t know what to do, so we bought half a dozen diamond doves to keep him
company. They were cute and small … and completely inadequate, but at
least they could speak the same language as Bill, and give him a bit of
friendship, and respect.
Bill
was pleased for the company. He liked being the biggest bird. He
liked being allowed in and out of his cage while the others stayed trapped in
one spot. He liked being King of his Castle.
But
he was still sick. He was still grieving. He needed a Coo.
We
sent a general message into our semi-rural community. “Does anyone own a
solo female fan-tail pigeon?” “White male bird searching for fertile
flying female.” It was worth a go. You never know!
Miracle
of miracles, we quickly received a message from an outlying farm. They had
a white fantail pigeon named Coo. Would we like Bill to come live with
her? Were we prepared to give up our bird? There would be no money
involved?
It
was a silly question. We loved Bill – we wanted his happiness … what
was money compared to Bill’s happiness? We drove Bill to his new home.
Bill didn’t like cars … but he loved the cute, little, female, white pigeon
who strutted inside her oversized cage. Bill jumped in with her, and
immediately began introducing himself.
The
farm that was to be Bill’s new home was run by a strong,
straight-to-the-point, stocky countrywoman. Her herds of goats were her
pride and joy, and she felt it important we meet her latest babies, and check
out the entire farm, as well as listen to some of the trauma’s she had had to
endure.. We were immediately intimidated by Bill’s new Mom’s ability
to accept death as a necessary part of life, but we also found her honesty
endearing, and slowly accepted her as the new “in-law”.
The
stocky countrywoman surprised us with her compassion and respect for us, and her
livestock, and all life. She understood our concern for Bill and, to a
certain extent, she shared it. She had lost a male white fan-tailed pigeon
to an unknown predator. His name had been Bill, too. Her Coo had
been grieving badly.
We
discussed Bill’s chances with the unknown predator who was still uncaught.
His new owner reckoned they were very good. Her Coo continued going for
daily flights, and was still returning healthier than ever. And whatever
happened, even if the predator resurfaced, Bill would know the joys of
fatherhood. Coo was a qualified breeder. She would not be intimated
by Bill’s lustful requests.
We
left Bill to his new life and wife, with several tears from “Mom and Dad”,
and barely a notice by Bill. That’s just the way we wanted it. We
sensed he had already settled into his new home, and needed nothing more from
us. We only heard once from Bill’s new Mum. She wanted us to know
Bill and “her” Coo, had successfully given birth to healthy babies. We
were all thrilled.
I
like to think our Coo also found True Love and happiness. I sometimes
imagine her meeting a big, strong pigeon, who fell flat on his beak for her
gentle, kind ways. I image him building Coo a fine nest in a tall tree,
and then infusing her with love while infusing her with his seed. I see my
Coo with babies. I see Coo happy.
I certainly know Bill is.
Bill and Coo
By B. A. Llewellyn
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