(The Pigeon on theÂ Patio -Â Part 1)Â
My first step after deciding to save the baby pigeon from the clutches of the cat was to go upstairs and log onto Yahoo Messenger, hoping that some blogger was online who might have some insights on what to do next.Â Of course, as usual, no one was online when I needed someone.Â I only get “buzzed” by an “online friend” when I’m about to do some important work or I’m in the middle of having virtual sex on Second Life.
My mind raced, looking for a solution.Â I decided to call Petco, remembering that there was a store on Pacific Coast Highway, right next to the overpriced “gourmet” Mexican cafe.
“Petco!,” answered the whiny voice of what I imagined to be a bored female sophomore of El Camino Community College, stuck with an awful summer job.
“Hi there,” I said.Â “Is there anyone in the store who specializes in birds?”
“She’s on vacation.”
“Maybe you can you help me.”
“Well… this might sound like an odd question, but I live near your store and there’s a baby pigeon on my patio that may be injured or can’t fly, and I have no idea what I should do…”
“And how CAN I help you?”
“I thought you might be able to tell me what to do or who I should call for help.”
“Uh, I don’t know.Â Did you buy the bird at Petco?”
“It’s a pigeon.”
“So, you didn’t buy the bird at Petco?”
“It’s a pigeon.Â You know, like the pigeons that fly around all over the place… all over the world”
“So maybe it will just fly away.”
“I don’t think it can fly.Â That’s the problem.”
“Do you know how to use the computer?”
“Maybe you can do a search on Google for this type of bird.Â Do you know how to do that?”
“Yes, that’s how I found you.Â Would you know if I should feed it?”
“We do sell bird seed.Â Different birds eat different bird seed.Â What type of bird do you have?”
“It’s a PIGEON!”
“We carry parakeet food.Â But I don’t see any pigeon seeds listedÂ on the computer.”
Jesus.Â Petco — the “Best Buy” of the pet world.
“OK, THANK YOU,” I said, having just wasted precious moments of my life with a woman who will, no doubt, one day Â end up doing something important, like running Paramount Pictures.
I went back downstairs and told Sophia about my decision:Â we needed to feed it, in case it was starving.
“Feed it what?”Â she asked.
I went into the kitchen, and returned with a box of Cheerios.Â I handed her the box and asked her to feed himÂ for me.Â
“Why me?”Â Â asked Sophia.
“Babies like to be fed by their “mother.” I said.Â
I made this up.Â I just didn’t want to do it.Â Â Despite the bird’s tiny size, I was afraid of going near it, thinking it might bite me and give me rabies.Â And, besides,Â this bird was particularly ugly.
Sophia threw some Cheerios in the vicinity of the bird.Â We waited and watched, but the pigeon didn’t budge.
“Let’s move away and not watch him.” I said.Â “Maybe he doesn’t like to eat while people watch.”
I’m not sure why I came up with that theory.Â After a certain age, you come up with bits of information in your brain, some factual and some nonsense.Â Â I vaguely remembered reading that dogs didn’t like toÂ go to the bathroom while people stared, because it made them insecure.Â I could understand this, because I also hated it when I was on the toilet and Sophia came in to grab a hairbrush.Â Â Maybe birds only eat when they are alone, like the anorexic models in Brentwood.
We walked away and turned our backs to the bird, letting him enjoy his Cheerios in peace.Â We waited a bit, then returned to see what happened.Â The pigeon hadn’t touched the Cheerios.Â He retreated even further into the corner, as if he was deathly afraid of the product’s “wholesome oat goodness.”
“I’ll be back,” I told Sophia, saying it with the inflection of a Jewish Terminator.
“Where are you going NOW?” she asked.
“I’m getting HIM some bird seed.”
I went to the supermarket, where I was surprised to learn that they actually HAD bird seed..Â Â I chose the seeds that looked the smallest, hoping that these would be the easiest for the tiny bird to eat, the equivalent of giving Gerber baby food to an infant.
Â I returned with the seeds and handed the bag to Sophia.
“Why don’t you do it?” she asked.
‘You’re the mother.”Â I said, trying to manipulate her by appealing to herÂ maternal instincts.
Sophia spread some seeds near the bird.Â We looked away and waited.Â Nothing.Â The bird didn’t move an inch.
“Well, we tried,” said Sophia.Â “We should get back to work.Â Maybe someone will give us an answer soon.”Â
She was eager to finish the planting so we could set up our new fountain.Â She was excited about hearing the calming water as it dribbled down the three “levels” of fake stone.
Maybe Sophia was right.Â
“We tried,” I told myself.Â “We did our best.Â If the bird doesn’t want to eat, its his own fault.Â Â I don’t know how to protect the bird from the cat.Â Nature is dangerous.Â I’m not bringing the pigeon inside to live with us.Â I don’t even want to touch it.Â Â It’s a stupid, ugly pigeon.Â I’m not sticking my neck out and get rabies just for a dumb bird.”
I was about to give up completely when I felt the presence of my father — and I felt ashamed of myself for wanting to give up so easily.
“I’m going to call Los Angeles Animal Control,” I told Sophia.Â “Maybe they’ll come over and take him away.”
“Isn’t Animal Control there for taking away crazy pitbulls?”- Â said Sophia.
Since it was Father’s Day, no one answered the phone at animal control.Â There was only a long recorded message asking me to leave my phone number, and that “someone would get back to me.”
“…if this is about an injured or abandoned bird, please press #5.”
I pressed #5 and listened to further instructions on what to do.Â Apparently, I needed to take care of the situation myself.Â To prevent the bird from being in harm’s way, I needed to put him into a box, then move him to a safe location, perhaps high on a tree branch.
I told Sophia the details, then took a shoe box from her closet.Â I handedÂ it to Sophia.
“You need to get him into the box…” I said to her.Â
Sophia glared at me.Â She was done doing my dirty work.
“If you really want to deal with this bird, YOU DO IT.Â Stop being such a scaredy cat, no pun intended.”
She knew me well.Â I was scared of the bird.Â
I slowly went over to the corner of the patio andÂ got down on my knees.Â The bird was pretty far back, so the only way to reach him was to stick my hand around some overgrown tree roots, and then all the way in to take hold of him.Â
And there was NO WAY I was doing this.Â
Â I took another approach.Â I decided to reason with the baby pigeon.
“Come into the box, little bird.Â It’s for your own safety.Â Come here.Â Tweet tweet.Â I won’t hurt you.Â Tweet tweet tweet!”
The pigeon stubbornly ignored me.Â Sophia laughed, but not a fun laugh.Â A mocking laugh.
This made my blood boil.Â Â Now I needed to prove myself to the woman I once married.Â I leaned forward, hoping to get more leverage, movingÂ closer to the bird, until I saw those beady eyes peering at me from out of the darkness, and fear stabbed me in right in the stomach.Â I couldn’t do it.Â The anxiety was overwhelming.Â Â
The neighbors next door wereÂ having an afternoon BBQ party.Â I thought about going over to their house and asking someone for help.Â Surely, one of the guests MUST have some experience with birds.Â Â Then I looked over at Sophia.Â Would she ever be able toÂ look at me like a man again if I ran crying to the neighbors’ house?
I took several deep breaths, trying to wipe my mind of all fear, hypnotizing myself into emptiness,Â andÂ forcing myself to justÂ GO FOR IT.
After placing the empty shoebox at my side, I reached behind the tree and into the heart of darkness.Â My finger grazed a bit of feather, and then my hand began to surround the pigeon’s tiny body.Â I could feel the bird’s heat and the vibration ofÂ his life energy.Â Just as I was about to grip him, there was a sudden jolt and the pigeon SCREECHED loudly, with a might and power that even surprised the bird himself, as heÂ flappedÂ his useless wings and twirled like a Waring blender.Â I jumped up, shrieking in unison.Â I released the bird, then pulled my hand back to protect myself, banging the back of my hand against the wall.Â The pigeon jumped up and down, as if he was having an epileptic fit, banging his wings into the branches of the tree.Â It then slid back into the corner, in a final kamikaze move… and then there was SILENCE.Â Absolutely NO SOUND, other than my own rapid breathing.Â I slowly pushed my finger in, touched the front of the little bird, but there was no movement.Â He was like a solid rock… lifeless.
“I think I just killed the pigeon!” I yelled at Sophia.Â “I scared the hell out of him.Â I killed him!”
What could be worse?Â I wanted to save the bird for my father.Â Instead, he died in the same way my father did –Â by havingÂ a heart attack!
Sheesh, Neil, this is worse than when you went toilet seat shopping at Linens & Things and Target.
Sometimes you’re too girly for words. Were you wearing Sophia’s panties when all this went down?
Nooooooooooooooooo! Tomorrow? We have to wait until TOMORROW? What if the entire internet went kaput TODAY? Then I’ll never know the ending!
Not fair. Just not fair. Dang.
ANNCR: You’ll laugh… again
[EXT DAY PATIO Medium Shot Neil hands Sophia box of Cheerios; Sophia pelts baby pigeon with handful of cereal]
ANNCR: You’ll cry… again
[CLOSE UP POV PIGEON Neil looks at baby pigeon, blinks]
NEIL: Live, dammit. You need to live!
[CLOSE UP POV NEIL Pigeon looks at Neil, blinks]
ANNCR: You’ll squark… again.
[MEDUIM SHOT Neil reaching for baby pigeon]
ANNCR: Life in Redondo Beach hangs … by a downy, fluffy feather.
[CLOSE UP Pigeon panting, blinks]
ANNCR: Neil Kramer IS BACK … as Neilochka
[MEDIUM SHOT Neil stands with arms folded, then rubs temples]
NEIL: I’ll be back
[Neil turns to leave]
ANNCR: Sophia Lansky IS BACK … as Sophochka
[MEDIUM SHOT Sophia ]
SOPHIA: [laughs mockingly]
ANNCR: Walter Pigeon IS BACK … as Baby Pigeon
[EXTREME CLOSE UP: Pigeon]
ANNCR: … in: The Pigeon on the Patio – Part 2, the Fledgling. Check Google Reader for listings and times.
lol to girl friday!
one of the scariest movies i’ve ever seen was the birds by hitchcock, no way you would ever catch me trying to pick up that little one.
Ok, I hate having to wait for the conclusion. But it’s so a story I could have written myself, especially the squeal.
i must admit, i would’ve shrieked too, if that creepy thing started freaking out in my hands. that is one ugly bird.
You shouldn’t blame yourself, Neil. You tried to help. Also, it probably ate a lot of red meat and smoked, which made it prone to heart attacks. So technically the pigeon killed itself.
You were saving a pigeon, I was getting baby field mice out of the BBQ… Such an Animal Planet weekend.
Excellent saga! And your closing sentence cliffhangers are worthy of a good daytime soap!
Is it dead? Is it dead? Part of me would be relieved if I were you and yet I do feel sorry for the poor thing. Is that bird a metaphor for all of us, struggling to survive in this crazy world?
Father Neil…….this post cracked me up….
I feel your pain… We have a mourning dove nesting on our patio, and I pray that she doesn’t abandon her babies. I once saw a half-dead chick being eaten by ants while it was still alive. The image has haunted me since I was 9 years old!
OMG – this is so much better than my rat story. We were jumping and screaming too and ours was DEAD. I so totally wish you had videoed this pigeon encounter!
â€œItâ€™s a pigeon. You know, like the pigeons that fly around all over the placeâ€¦ all over the worldâ€
I have saved many a bird in my day (including an old, old, OLD pigeon from the Shoprite parking lot when I was in high school – boy, was my mom mad!)
they will not hurt you!
But I have to say, me trying to stifle my laughter while reading this at work almost made me explode! HA!
wow on the petco girl. and, if the bird died, and then you took pictures of it (for the above photo), thats morbid!
this is funny and sad neil. What has happened?
I like how caring you are. YOU are afraid of getting rabies, so you ask Sophia to feed the pigeon. Nice.
Fearless Neil, the pigeon terminator!
Oh no….bunnies do that to..die of fright….
Poor bird…But is he really dead?
You’re lucky the real mama wasn’t around, because something tells me you would have been blinded by now. Or at least covered in pigeon poop.
Geeze, Neil! As my husband would say, you’re bigger than it! Now go put on the Big Boy Pants and show it who’s boss.
I hope that you washed your hands really well after handling the pigeon. Because they carry diseases. At least that’s what a college roomie told me after she had to handle pigeons for a psych class.
Neil, I take back my comment about wanting to read Penis’s POV about this episode.You are doing a GREAT job yourself in relaying the story.
I’ve been laughing like a fool while reading this…especially this slice-of-life bit: “I could understand this, because I also hated it when I was on the toilet and Sophia came in to grab a hairbrush.” And the following line is wonderful and creates great visual imagery. “Maybe birds only eat when they are alone, like the anorexic models in Brentwood.”
(Have you ever looked at a bird’s scrawny legs? Maybe you have a point!)
You basically leave the story where the bird is tied to the railroad tracks. Damn you.
you should have just put the gloves on, picked up the bird, and put it in the box. I think baby birds eat regurgitated substances from their mothers.
try getting Sophia to do that one! 😆
DAMMIT NEIL. I need to know the conclusion. And, for fuck’s sake, you could have e-mailed me! I am something of an animal whisperer.
Not really, but I am chock full of useless information. Birds like little bits of bread, I know that. Also, garden gloves! Those are pretty thick and could protect your hands from a good hard beaking.
oh, the drama and suspense!
i’ve been known to save a bird or two in my day (one was a pigeon). to feed a baby bird you can squish a snail or worm, mix with water (or spit!) and feed it with an eyedropper.
This story is extremely gripping.
Tell me you wore gloves, right?
I knew you were gonna kill it, it’s a guy thing, now you have to eat it.
What a Pecker.
The bird, not you.
Two words. Latex. Gloves. You probably have mites now. Nice. And I’m squarking about you to the ASPCA. But, “he . . . twirled like a Waring blender”–priceless.
My favorite: “Maybe birds only eat when they are alone, like the anorexic models in Brentwood.”
Plus I’m all tense from the tension, you know?
Also, there’s nothing better than the comments.
please, please let the bird be ok!
“Petco â€” the â€œBest Buyâ€ of the pet world.” was a effen brilliant line. 😉
Listen up. Pigeons are rats with wings. That’s it. That’s all I have to say. I got off a boat last weekend and watched a seagull kill and peck away and mangle a pigeon as if it were a fish! YUMMY.
You got me hooked now Neil. Conclusion tomorrow and my last shift on night run too. This is great.
Don’t feel bad Neil – baby birds are difficult to deal with.
A number of years ago my students brought me 5 baby birds – ugly, naked little things – and wanted me to save them. (How they got them is a long story itself.) My mom called a birding friend for advice. She told us the best thing to do was to wring their necks if they were starlings, and to try feeding them baby food if they were something else.
I am such a sucker for animals that I couldn’t kill them, but I didn’t have much luck with them. 3 died, then other students of mine took the remaining 2 to try & raise. They didn’t have any better luck.
I did learn that I’m not meant to be a surrogate birdy mom. Since then I’ve stuck to cats & fish.
I meant to also say Steppingoverthejunk is right – pigeons are pests. So don’t get too worked up if you’re not too successful with the pigeon rescue.
But damn! That’s a good cliffhanger!
LOL The image of you people feeding the bird cheerios. Did this REALLY happen? LOL
I have alternate feelings of wanting to read and turning the damned computer off whenever Neil gets onto one of these things…
this is worse than watching “hostel.”
I am catching up with your posts. I just have to tell you that I am terrified of birds, too. I would have a heart attach and die if one flew at me.
Great story ! Laughed a lot. I actually found this story because a pidgeon landed on our fence and didnt move. I actually touched it and it seemed to just be relaxed about that. Like you I thought about all the bugs it carried and diseases so I washed my hands and arms afterwards. Freaked me right out – wouldnt take food etc started to believe it might be some evil spirit in the form of a scruffy pidgeon that was sent to make me paranoid – hmmm then I went inside and it flew away