Ava and Jenny are my adopted pigeons. Both of their rescue stories have been chronicled here before. Recently, however, Ava had an adventure that I would like to tell you about as a cautionary tale.

We recently moved to Brisbane, California, just south of San Francisco where we had all lived together for two years. Ava and Jenny lived in their double flight in the living room with “out” time. Our new housemate (and landlord) said it would be okay to build an aviary on the deck in the garden. I thought the pij would be happier outside with more space, so a friend very kindly built a beautiful aviary for them. Unfortunately, the wire mesh (hardware cloth) that I bought for two sides of the aviary had holes just a little too large for safety with a blind bird (Jenny) who might back up against it and stick her tail or wings out to be grabbed by predators. Elizabeth, of MickaCoo, suggested putting them in a cage inside the aviary until extra wire could be added and Cheryl, a MickaCoo super volunteer, loaned me a large dog crate so that Jenny and Ava would have lots of room.

Jenny and Ava quickly got used to being outside, though Ava was clearly anxious to make use of the whole aviary. She actually had grander plans, but I didn’t know that yet. That Sunday, I went into the aviary to let Jenny and Ava out for supervised time in the larger aviary. I made the mistake of opening the dog crate door before I had fully closed the aviary door. Ava shot out over my shoulder through the door and circled around over the garden before she landed on the roof next door. I pleaded with her to come down and offered treats, but she was looking out at the wonderful view and the next thing I knew, she was flying off toward San Bruno Mountain. I was both taken by the beauty of her in flight, particularly given that she was almost entirely paralyzed when she first entered Elizabeth’s care at MickaCoo, and fear that I would never see her again. I wasn’t even sure if she knew how to get back home. We had been here such a short time. Also- which home would she seek? She had had several including her pre-rescue home in Marin, 30 miles north.

I contacted Elizabeth in a panic and she told me to get signs out and that my instinct to go looking around the neighborhood for her was good. I wanted to be home if she came home, but everything I read suggested that, if she was going to come home, she would do it later in the day. My housemate suggested that I call the police, which, having lived in San Francisco most of my life, I thought would only bring mockery, but the Brisbane PD took my lost pigeon news very seriously. I really appreciated that. I sent emails to SF ACC and San Mateo County ACC and posted on Craigslist and various lost bird sites that people recommended. I, then, went out in the heat and bright sunlight, crying and taking my sad little posters around town to post them in case anyone found Ava.

I was supposed to go to a play with a friend that afternoon, but I explained that I needed to stay home in case Ava was found and needed me. The friend said that she would come over and wait for Ava with me. She did, which was incredibly kind of her. She also got more ink for my printer for flyers and picked up some dinner, which we ate while I watched the sun lower in the sky. I had just about given up hope of seeing her that day when she landed on the roof next door. I just happened to look up and there she was. She flew over to the roof of our house, but I couldn’t reach her and she was either too tired or disinclined to come down yet. When the sun set fully, I took Jenny inside to sleep where she could hear me and not feel so alone. She was clearly pretty upset about Ava being away, though.

The next morning, I got up about an hour before dawn to return Jenny to the dog crate and open the aviary door to try to woo Ava back home. Elizabeth suggested that I run some water out of the hose (pigeons know and love the sound of water) and put food down, trailing out of the aviary door. I did both and, when it was light, I could see Ava still on the roof. When she saw me, she bobbed her head in greeting, but still wouldn’t come down. She flew around the house and came back to the roof. In retrospect, I think she wanted me to come get her. Elizabeth, who I had been texting in between attempts to encourage Ava, thought that Jenny might be the best motivation, so I held Jenny very tightly, even though she is unlikely to fly away, I wasn’t taking any chances, and brought her out where Ava could see her. Ava immediately flew down to the garden fence and then sort of stumbled into the middle of the path. I grabbed her- Ava was home.

Guest Post by Christine Housel

Mr. Bird

One lovely fall day in 2012, a coworker and I took a stroll on the trail behind our office.  We’re lucky to work with the Florida Park Service, in a building nestled in one of our state’s natural treasures: Paynes Prairie Preserve State Park.  We ambled along, admiring the magnificent array of birds and gators we see there all the time.  But, oh my—what’s that up ahead?!  Perched on the boardwalk railing, watching as we slowly approached, was a pretty white dove-like bird with colorful leg bands.  It was like no other bird we’d seen before—a visitor, for sure, and perhaps injured or sick.  JulieAnne snapped a photo and we calmly passed, trying not to frighten him.  Sadly, the hikers behind us weren’t as polite: a girl tried to touch him and down he flew, bumbling toward the gator-filled water hole and then disappearing under the boardwalk.  Mystery Bird was gone from view, but not from my mind.  I couldn’t think of anything else.  Where did he come from?  What was his story?

“That’s probably a racing pigeon,” our biologist colleague said when he saw the photo.  “A woman caught one just like it out on the prairie a few years ago.  Called the owner, and he said he didn’t want it back.”  Um, really?  His little bird was rescued and he doesn’t care?!  Naïve and troubled, I went home and read everything I could find about homing pigeons…and the “sport” that was responsible for Mystery Bird’s predicament.  That little pigeon, I realized, wouldn’t survive long in a park filled with gators, owls, and hawks…and if a predator didn’t get it soon, it would likely suffer fear, hunger, and thirst for days.  Paynes Prairie Preserve is a wild, wonderful place—great for the wildlife that lives there, but a death trap for a domesticated bird like a homer.  I knew that lonely pigeon might not survive the night, but if he did—I couldn’t rest until I tried to catch him.

It wasn’t until mid-afternoon the next day that I could get back out on the trail.  With a cardboard box in hand, I searched everywhere.  No pigeon.  I was too late, I lamented, and so bummed.  I tried to console myself with practicality: “Christine, he was a good meal for a hungry hawk.  And now, he won’t suffer.”  I wandered down the trail, half searching and half mourning, almost ready to turn around, when I stumbled into a wildlife photographer setting up his tripod.  “Hey, have you seen a white dove-like bird with colored leg bands?”  His face lit up.  “Oh yeah!  Funny little bird!  Saw him wandering under that big oak this morning, and a few hours ago a hawk swooped and just missed him.”  Elated, I ran back to the oak and searched until dark.  Still no pigeon—but now, at least, a little hope.  This is a smart bird, I told myself.  He’s hunkered down for the night, waiting for morning.  I’ll find him then.

Morning came and I was on the prairie again, my heart racing with anticipation as I neared the spot where Mystery Bird had last been seen.  Under the big oak, wild horses were grazing and lounging.  Cattle egrets encircled them, busily preening and foraging, their white feathers glistening in the sunny morning mist.  And there, in the midst of that elegant circle, desperately trying to find food and blend in, was the little white pigeon.  “Hello again, Mr. Bird,” I quietly murmured, slowly creeping toward him with the cardboard box.  He continued to forage, inching away as he eyed me nervously.  I knew I had to act quickly—and that I only had one chance.  One second too late, or one wrong move, and this guy could be gone forever.  I lunged forward and whumped the box down.  Startled horses lept to their feet, egrets flurried off, and hikers on the boardwalk gasped.  Shaking, I knelt on the ground, overcome with both joy and disbelief.  Mr. Bird was under the box.

“It’s OK,” I hollered to the bewildered spectators.  “The bird is safe with me.”  And safe with our family he continues to be, to this day.  Mr. Bird—who lives up to his name, with his dramatic strutting and beautiful displays—is a treasured family member.  He’ll soon have a female companion—another rescued pij—and a roomy aviary next to our porch.  Sometimes, when he’s curiously perched on my leg or snuggled calmly in my arms, I find myself thinking about the parts of his story that I’ll never know: all the adversities he faced during his frantic flight home, and the beloved mate—and perhaps babies—that he’d never again see.  I’m also reminded that his rescue—the happy part of his story—is the exception, not the rule.  That for every lost, injured racing pigeon that is rescued and rehomed, many others are not so lucky.  Until pigeon racing is a thing of the past, so many of these beautiful, smart, gentle homers will continue to suffer and die.  It gets me down, until I remind myself that rescuing one little pigeon—who bravely let me capture him—is significant.  The starfish story rings true: for this one bird, a caring hand made all the difference.  And for me, the joy and honor of caring for this lovely creature has enriched my life in ways I’m only beginning to understand.  A connection that, somehow, was meant to be.  Thank you, Mr. Bird.

Mr. Bird’s Photo Album

As a new pigeon mama, knowing very little about birds and absolutely nothing about pigeons, I was hungry for good information and advice.  My many Internet searches turned up a mind-boggling number of sites filled with info, both good and bad.  But only one site really stood out as a cream-of-the-crop source worth bookmarking and visiting many times:  MickaCoo Pigeon & Dove Rescue.  A wonderful, volunteer-run non-profit group, 2,800 miles away from me, with a website and Facebook page full of professional, detailed, clearly-presented information about pigeons and doves….as well as many inspirational stories, photos, and helpful links.  What a treasure!  And to MickaCoo, I realized, good care of these birds means so many things, on so many levels.  Indeed, they provide a wealth of info. on optimal nutrition, housing, and physical health of pigeons and doves.  But their caring goes far beyond that: to MickaCoo, the birds’ social and emotional well-being is just as important.  Finding loving, forever homes is a priority, and potential adopters are thoroughly screened.  On top of all that, MickaCoo is actively engaged with the public–in communities both near and far–to teach about what they do and get people involved in caring too.  In doing so, they spread an important message the world needs to hear more often: that ALL creatures are worthy of kindness and respect.  This is my kind of group, I remember thinking–  Exactly the kind of support I need to give this little pigeon the best life possible.  I e-mailed Elizabeth and immediately received the kindest, most encouraging, well-written, info-filled reply.  Her advice made such a difference as I strived to make the best decisions for Mr. Bird and our family.  Since then I’ve e-mailed Elizabeth many times with a wide variety of questions and musings….and despite being busy 24/7 with rescues, adoptions, bird care, and educational efforts, she has always made time for me.  Many thanks to Elizabeth and the wonderful MickaCoo crew for all they do, every day, to help make the world a kinder, gentler place for our feathered friends (and their caretakers too).  Christine Housel