What lands on our doorstep

Of course, my husband and I were out of town.

My daughter lets the dog out to her yard, and immediately, she notices that the dog is focused on something on the deck. There’s a pigeon in the dog’s water bowl! We don’t have pigeons in the Foothills.

Putting the dog back in the house, she approaches the pigeon to see that it’s hopping clumsily, it has an evidently injured leg. It seemed desperate for some water, so she gave it space to drink. The next few moments are spent working to size up the situation and what to do next. Thinking the bird will just fly away again, she continues to watch over and not alarm it, but she needs to see the extent of the bird’s injury since that will dictate what happens next.

“Good grief, it’s just a pigeon,” perhaps I hear you say, but pigeons are not found here in the Foothills. This bird is way off-course and away from its home flock. The pigeon, also known as a Rock Dove, is BIG, causing us to wonder if it is a pet, homing, or racing pigeon. Bigger than our Stellar and Gray Jays, almost as big as a Cooper’s Hawk. Like a number of other critters in need, it somehow found its way to our doorstep.

The pigeon is hopping about awkwardly on one leg, this injury seems new to him (Her? It’s impossible to tell, you pick one and stick with it.) There’s a bit of dried blood on the leg, but not actively bleeding. Giving the bird space to begin to rest, my daughter watches him while she dials up the Greenwood Wildlife Rehab Center. They were wonderful, but they were about to close on a Saturday evening, and they are nearly a 2-hour drive away. A broken leg on a pigeon is not a fixable injury either.

With the rehab center’s advice, the plan became to make the pigeon comfortable to rest from its injury and see what he’ll do next. Nature does take its course. Either the bird will rest and recover, learning to adapt to only having one leg, or he will deteriorate and expire soon.

Adding to this plan is the sizable storm that will be starting soon, with heavy rain and winds Saturday night through Sunday midday. As we discuss over the phone, daughter finds a good size box, adds bird seed and water, and brings it out to our gazebo by the pond for shelter. Next, to get the pigeon. With gloves on, she corners him and picks him up gently, carrying him down to the box. The bird does not fight or even seem alarmed. Once laid in the box, he settles down to an exhausted rest. Creating a sheltered haven that he can easily fly out of, she leaves him to his own devices for the night. The storm begins with steady rain and chill. Mr. Pigeon is still in his box resting when she checks on hours later.

The next morning’s quick check confirms he is still there before my daughter has to leave for the day. When my husband and I get home at about 3pm, Mr. Pigeon is still in his box. We leave him be. No additional bird seed added, so hunger might motivate him to move.

Monday afternoon, daughter and I check on him, and he’s upright and alert now. He seems rested and stronger. Gentle encouragement to leave his box has him hopping one legged, but functional. He tries several short flights. Not far, but confirming to himself he can still do that. Suddenly, he takes off and heads to the neighbor’s trees. We wish him well, glad to see him revived and back on his own. End of story, right?

One loose feather. We won’t pluck it for him, as many feathers are attached right to muscle and some to bone. This is molting season and the feathers will fall out on their own.

We’ve returned to our routines, getting computer work and property tasks done. Early afternoon Tuesday, and guess who’s sitting outside my office door…

Mr Pigeon is even stronger, taking flight more often, yet returning to the presumed safety of the house. He found a sheltered spot under our 2nd floor deck and keeps returning to that as his base. He has flown back to the gazebo, and out to the pond landing in many places, exploring the property. As I write this, his alert eyes are watching the ducks and jays and chickadees moving about. There’s grass seed and other natural food bits aplenty along with bird baths, dog water bowls and the pond for water. This might be a rehab place for him for now.

He’s alone though, and we keep wondering if someone is missing him, and if he is missing his flock. I’ve posted a note on the Colorado State Pigeon Association Facebook page. Some helpful comments have come in that he is a ‘homer’ - homing pigeon - that likely flew off. He should fly home when he’s ready - or perhaps he’ll decide this is some cushy digs and hang out for a bit. He needs time to adapt to having one leg, but he seems to be motivated to stay alive. He has come to the mountains though, full of hawks, foxes, coyotes, raccoons, feral cats, other predators. We will not interfere with the course of nature, but we feel he is also not defenseless since he can still fly. I will update this story as we see what happens.

This experience brought to mind so many other critters that have found their way to our doorstep. Many lost dogs, one big fluff that was so scared he needed to be hugged to stopped trembling, thankfully, his collar had detailed information on it, a must for any loved dogs. A canary that flew out its owner’s window and to our shrubs, and via Facebook, amazingly, the owner was found. A 4 week-old kitten abandoned at our rural mailboxes. What a battle he was to rescue! That kitten is 3 years old now, and curled up on the couch over my shoulder. Talk about falling into a good thing.

Nuummite - we call him Numi - named for a semi-precious black stone, as a terrified 4 week old, and the cushy life he has now. Of feral cat stock, he is the rowdiest cat we've ever had, he's almost non-stop action.

There was the Western Tiger Salamander that was, ever so slowly, crossing our dirt road, I moved him out of tire track death zone and close to the creek he was seeking. Sunning snakes have been moved from roadways. Countless song birds, dragonflies, and big ol’ bumblebees that find themselves caught in our lanai area to be coaxed to freedom, sometimes requiring catching with gloved hands to return to the open air. And an old butterfly, with brittle, chipped wings resting, with seeming deep breaths, right in the path of feet and bikes on a trail, lifted and placed on a flower to live out its final moments in peace.

My philosophy is simple, just do unto others. Others, including those which may not be human, but in need of a moment of care nevertheless. My human life is, of course, selfish, and often dense to needs that may fall on my door step. I’m sure I miss more than I respond to, but I pray for eyes that see and a mind to know what I can do with what is presented in front of me and act accordingly.

What has landed on your doorstep?

📷 All photos are credit: The Abert Essays unless otherwise noted.

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