Chrass Landing

[Part 2: Sitting Pigeon-Toed at a Diamond Commode]

Hindenburg will never fly again.  His wing never healed correctly (or even remotely at a normal angle).  He did eventually calm down and is less freaked out about being around me.

I found myself in a quandary: I went through all the effort, and Hindenburg went through all the terror of ensuring that he’d survive.  Now I had a pigeon that would likely live, but could never be released.  It seemed cruel to kill him now.

As it happens, there is a very large pigeon community online.  Many of them are weirdos.  They write posts from the perspective of their birds “I’m pecking at the keyboard and thinking of some tasty millet…”

However, they (both the people online and their literate pigeons) are very helpful and in a few days I was able to find a dude about a mile from my house that has a grounded pigeon.  He was looking for a companion for it.  Luckily, he didn’t seem to be a weirdo, but he kept misusing the word “feral” when he should have been saying “wild” (ex: “Feral pigeons often land outside my window”).  I somehow managed to avoid pointing this out.

When I got to his apartment, I realized that he lets his bird run free in the house.  I didn’t notice any bird shit anywhere so I guess he cleaned the place before I got there.  This arrangement, of course, would be ideal for Hindenburg –much better than having him confined to a cage.

I handed him my left over seed and grit, took a (blurry) photo, and he promised that he’d update me on Hindenburg’s progress.  I haven’t heard anything yet.

Hindenburg below, and his roommate above.

I was sitting at a bar last night and a guy came up beside me and ordered two Tanqueray shots.  I’ve never really seen any other than myself order Tanqueray so I paid attention.

The man ordering was short, black, and in pretty good shape.  But most notably was the tattoo on his forearm that said “One Day at a Time”.

[Part 1: Bird in Hand]

Yesterday morning I checked in on Hindenburg and saw that he had halfway pulled off his bandage and his wing was now held at an unnatural angle.

Old bandage coming loose, left wing at weird angle (hard to see in this photo).

I felt bad about subjecting him to more stress, but I figured a whole bunch of stress is better than being dead so I re-wrapped his wing using self-sticking guaze (which is much easier to use).

Twenty-four hours later the bandage is still holding and Hindenburg looks to be doing okay.  He’s now standing and hopping around okay, although he seems to just cower at the far end of the cage at the farthest point away from the door to the room.

New bandage and Hindenburg standing on his own two feet

I can’t tell if he’s eaten or drank anything since I put him in the cage.  He’s definitely shitting just fine.  I’m not sure what to do, but I suspect that survival instinct will overcome whatever fear he has and eventually he’ll drink or eat.

With a name like "Hindenburg" you know everything has to work out okay. I haven't changed the paper yet because I'm trying not to stress him out too much.

I’m planning on going camping for a couple of days, so hopefully I won’t come home to a dead pigeon.  Hopefully the house being quite will help him relax.

[Part 3: Bye Bye Birdie]