Introducing Uncle Pudge

We have a new pet, a domestic pigeon, of all things. We didn’t buy him or anything. He isn’t “really” ours, but he has begun hanging out at Pook’s bird feeder like he is. I suppose the hurricane blew him in from some statue in Tampa, or perhaps he has run away from his Homing Pigeon team? Pook puts out her corn for the ducks, deer, turtles, squirrels, skunks and crows, but “Uncle Pudgy-Pudge the Pigeon” doesn’t seem interested in it, he’s only into the safflower seeds at her bird feeder. Pook has taken to putting down a small pile beneath the feeder, just for him. Being he is an inner-city bird, I figure the safflower must be his crack. He certainly cannot seem to get enough.

He’s a looker though, Uncle Pudge is. He is mostly darker gray with some lighter gray splotches, and his wingtips and tail spark a brilliant white flash when he takes flight, which is actually pretty darned spectacular. I remember reading that there were once great flocks with millions of pigeons inhabiting the American continent. As thrilling as it is to see Uncle Pudge take off, it must have been absolutely amazing to see a million or so taking off at once! It is strange that a stray domestic bird could be one of the most eye-catching at our feeder, but there it is. He is bigger than the finches, larger and more colorful than the pinkish doves, and flashier than the irredescent grackles. Granted the cardinals give him a run, but cardinals are birds of a higher power and should not be counted among the lay-birds. And the jays are prettier of course, but jays are way too uppity to gather at a common feeder, and so must be omitted from the conversation.

Uncle Pudge is just a pigeon. A domestic one at that. I expect that soon he will be hawk food. He is too trusting to make it in the wild, and will let me walk right up to him. General Sherman should have gotten him by now, but The General is not the dog he used to be. Well…to be truthful General Sherman never was much of a sporting dog, but he is cool for arguing philosophy with, or for hanging out with beers and a ballgame. I guess The General leans toward being a comfort dog rather than a service one, and there is room on my couch for that type too.

Anyways, Uncle Pudge is welcome at Pook’s feeder. In fact, he fits right in with The General and me; an old-school man in a modern world, a dog that won’t hunt, and a pigeon who can’t find his way home…

…or maybe he has?