I named him Bobby because he was born with “socks”. When he was old enough to leave his family nest, Bobby made a home for himself in a cut-off water tube that José had attached to the wall in the coop where most of our hens congregated. It wasn’t long before Bobby attracted a pure white pigeon who came to live with him, for Bobby was a very handsome pigeon. Every day, I would see them flying around the coop or nestled together in the cut-off water tube. They appeared to be a happy couple.
Several days ago, as I was emptying the wheelbarrow in the manure pit, I saw white feathers scattered on the ground: one of our pigeons had been taken during the day by one of the hawks that fly around our stable searching for prey. That afternoon, all our birds flew back into the coop, but Bobby was alone in his cut-off water tube; his mate hadn’t returned.
Later, when I came to the coop to give the chickens, roosters, and guinea hens their treats — canned corn and lettuce — I looked for Bobby’s mate, but only Bobby was perched at the entry to their cut-off water tube. While he was alert, I noticed that he was looking around, as though his mate was somewhere nearby. I worried. Were the feathers I had discovered those of
Bobby’s mate or, of another white pigeon?
Every time I woke up during the night, I checked my iPhone, for we have cameras installed in the coops, but Bobby’s mate hadn’t returned. All the following day, Bobby remained at the entry of his cut-off water tube, waiting. Then, during the second day after his mate’s disappearance, I saw Bobby welcoming another pigeon to his home: a mixed blue and white female, a widow who had lost her mate to a hawk about six months before; she was the only widow in our flock and she owned a box attached to the wall under a window in another part of the coop.
“José,” I called out to my partner, “come here. Look.”
All day, Bobby flew in and out of his cut-off tube while the blue-and-white female pigeon rearranged the straw, making it “hers”. When I turned the lights off at the end of the day, the two were side by side, nestled on the straw mat in the cut-off tube.
The following morning, when I entered the coop to clean and give the birds their treats, I couldn’t find Bobby. Using the flashlight of my iPhone, I checked…and there he was, hidden in his cut-off water tube at the back of his new mate, asleep.
About E.P. Lande
Born in Montreal, E.P. Lande has lived in the south of France and now, with his partner, in Vermont, writing and caring for more than 100 animals. Previously, as a Vice-Dean, he taught at l’Université d’Ottawa, and he has owned and managed country inns and free-standing restaurants. Since submitting less than three years ago, more than 100 of his stories — many auto-fiction — and poems have found homes in publications on all continents except Antarctica. His story “Expecting” has been nominated for Best of the Net. His debut novel, Aaron’s Odyssey, a gay-romantic-psychological thriller, has recently been published in London.
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