I never considered myself a bird person. I’ve had a couple of parakeets farther back than I care to admit, and that’s about it. So imagine my surprise when, out of the clear blue sky, a rust colored pigeon with golden eyes and PINK FEET.. and a respiratory infection shows up on top of my farm-cart. Those of you who might be wondering how I knew this bird had a respiratory infection can rest assured that if a bird shows up panting and rattling, it’s NOT normal. So.. I did want any abnormal person would do ~ I corralled that bird in my trusty cat-carrier, and took him to our upstairs guest bathroom, where any creature that our five cats might consider to be a MEAL, gets to reside. That pigeon was none too happy about this living arrangement, and expressed himself quite well with snarls and throwing himself at us in a feathered fury that only a mad pigeon can apparently exhibit. Best I could tell from the little bit of research that I started to do, this was a full-grown Ash-Red pigeon, and judging by the aggressive nature, I simply assumed “it” to be a “he,” and therefore named him Russell.

Russell resided in our upstairs bathroom for about two weeks. With the addition of antibiotics to his drinking water, he soon quit wheezing and rattling. His demeanor, however, failed to improve. He was simply one GROUCHY, curmudgeonous bird. And although he would “tolerate” me picking him up, he was not opposed to biting my hand if he thought he could get a chance. Once we were certain that he was on the mend, and since there were no identifying leg bands, we assumed that he was a wild bird that had just gotten sick, and that he certainly needed to be free. Or so we thought...  Upon opening the cat-carrier door on the deck of our house, there was NO bird exiting in grand finale fashion. He was skulking in the back of the carrier....still M-A-D. I finally had to reach in there, haul him out, and he then sat stubbornly on TOP of the carrier.”Hmmmph...” As I walked closer, he took off in one fell swoop, and we are graced with watching the speed and agility that these birds are so well known for. And with all that speed and agility, he swooped right down into our metal building his new “home.” Great.

 

I continued my research about pigeons during the months that Russell was living in the shop. Most of what I read talked about how much they “talk.” Well, I had not heard one single peep out of that bird at that point. And then one day, all that changed. I walked into the shop and was greeted by a jabbering of coos, warblings, and various sorts of noises that I had NO IDEA could be made by a BIRD. Well, that was the END of the “Era of Silence”, as from that point on... Russell never shut up. And along with the serenades, came all the puffery, prancing, parading and strutting around that very obviously told us that he was a MALE. His drab rust colored feathers had transformed into gleaming red, with fuschia and iridescent green highlights when the sun hit him just right. He was a beautiful bird. He then began to “woo” his person ~ me, apparently ~ by dropping small sticks on my head as I walked into the shop each morning. And when I did not pay him attention, he would then fly down from his perch onto one of the wooden workbenches, and proceed to throw EVERYTHING that would fit into his beak off onto the floor. Pens, sunglasses, GOGGLES...  you name it. He was really making himself quite at home...and making QUITE a mess.

His favorite spot in the shop was a storage shelf that my husband had built overhead. He would sit up there, tossing sticks at me, and generally just parading around as we worked down there. Sometimes, I would put his food up there and he would walk over to eat, and didn’t seem to mind that I was nearby. One day, while I was crumbling millet up in bowl for him, I noticed that he had puffed out his feathers and was dragging his tail on the ground and making a beeline for ME. He promptly marched right over and BIT my hand, as if to say, “There! Now we’re friends.” And then he stomped away. After THAT, it only took a wiggling of my fingers to completely INSCENCE that bird ~ it didn’t matter where I was, if I was wiggling my fingers, he was going to fly right over and bit my hand. And during that time, I could pet him, pick him up ~ it was like having a pet PIRANHA..with feathers.

My research continued to give me lots of clues about pigeons, especially the BITING part. Apparently, in “Pigeonville,” that’s what’s going to happen when a pigeon decides that you are not going to eat him, and they will then go on to treat you like a pigeon ~ which apparently involves biting the CRAP out of you on a very regular basis. His favorite thing to do with my husband Frank was to “wing slap” him, which is kind of bird “karate chop.” It was only reserved for Frank, apparently. Irregardless, we let Russell chomp and “karate chop” away, and that seemed to make him happy, although we seriously considered investing into some sort of protective HEAD GEAR when Russell decided that LANDING on us was the next best thing to do.

Once that started, we could not walk into the shop without him landing on our heads, shoulders, back, laps. Once he decided that we were “ok,” it seemed to open all sorts of doors where trust was involved. The transformation from his arrival during the previous months as a fairly shy and reclusive bird to an outright entertainer, was amazing. He wasn’t even opposed to landing on visitors...but seemed to especially prefer to land on the ones that were A.) terrified of birds ( oh, THOSE were worth seeing! I can so easily recall the "Yaaaaaaaaaah!!!!") and B.) those that were not expecting to be landed on. It always made for a good laugh for us anyway! And Russell SURE got a kick out of being the center of attention.
 
Russell had been here for about 8 months ~ he arrived last August~ when he started to disappear here and there for a few days at a time in March of this year. Initially, we were quite worried, and I even thought once that he had been overcome by a pack of crafty rats in the shop, as he was not opposed to flying down on the floor and walking around in search of little “trinkets” that only pigeons can appreciate. On the last day, unbeknownst to us, he was especially talkative, and kept flying about landing on Frank and I all throughout the day. He had come to be content with being handled, although biting was still his most favorite pastime. The next morning, he was gone. No good-bye note. No feathers suggesting an untimely demise. Poof. Gone. 

We are fairly certain that Russell has gone off in search of a mate, since his “stick-wooing” wasn’t getting anywhere with me. Again, more research has lead us to believe that this is true, and we are ever hopeful that he will return with his new bride in tow. The few months that he was here with us have left an indelible mark. Without being pressured or tricked or plied with food, Russell made his own choices that kept evolving to the point that he grew closer to us versus farther away. We would have never dreamed that such a bird could exhibit such a keen intellect, and are ever hopeful that he will stop by for a visit again with us. At that point, I will update you all with yet another “Russell Report.”