Penned Thoughts

I had my in-ear headphones plugged in and was listening to episode #152 of MacBreak Weekly as I was returning from my morning walk just now. Just when I was about to reach my hostel, and was only about forty yards away from it, I saw a pigeon drop out of a tree and onto the sidewalk just to the left of me.

It thrashed its wings about for a while and tried in desperation to right itself. Its legs were crooked at odd angles beneath it and its head seemed to have been tucked in neatly beside its right shoulder. I wanted to help it but I was hesitant about touching it while it was in such obvious pain. After a few seconds of flapping its wings, it gave up, let its eyelids droop, and became still.

As soon as it did, a dog came bounding out of nowhere, no doubt hoping for a satisfying breakfast to begin the day. As much as I love dogs though, I couldn’t allow it to tear this poor thing apart right in front of me, specially if it had any life left in it. I shooed the intruder away and it scampered off.

When she was alive, my grandmother always got up early in the morning, went up to the roof of our house in Siliguri, and fed grains to pigeons. I’d sometimes accompany her and always used to be fascinated by how they would fly off when I made even the slightest of movements but hopped right up to the toes of daadiji to peck at the grains she so routinely fed them. I’ve loved pigeons ever since.

As I watched that poor thing lying on the pavement, probably dead already, I felt a strong urge to lift it and make it fly away into the dawn. But I felt a little self-conscious about doing so, with passers-by watching as I stood there looking at an ordinary fallen bird.

I approached it gingerly and gently prodded it with my foot, trying to check for any signs of life. Unsuccessful, I then bent down and scooped it into my hands. Once I’d straightened its limbs, it looked like it was having a peaceful siesta, except for the slight bleeding in its broken leg.

I tried to cajole it to open its eyes but it was in vain. At one point, I thought I saw it stir a little, but that may just have been a twitch of one of my fingers, for all I know. In any case, I knew that it was dead. I’d known it all along. Pigeons do not just fall out of trees.

I laid it back down on the pavement and looked around for the dog. I wanted to give this poor bird a chance to live when I’d seen it fall but now that I was sure it was dead, why deprive the dog a wholesome meal that must be so difficult to come by? I didn’t see it anywhere in the vicinity though, so I just trudged along.

As someone whose house practically used to be infested with the birds, I’ve seen a lot of dead pigeons in my life. But I’ve never felt quite as sad about the passing of a bird as I did today. I’d seen them dead, sure, but this is the first time I’ve witnessed the death of a pigeon. And it’s not a pretty sight.

Aayush