Jonny, the Half-Fly pigeon

As I left work at the lycee a few weeks ago, I noticed a crowd of girls around the soft drinks machines in the foyer. OK, this is not an unusual occurrence, but they weren't buying drinks, they were all crying 'Oh le pauvre! le pauvre!'.
My heart sank. I knew there was going to be an injured animal of some sort, and equally, I was certain that it would fall to me to do something about it. Sure enough, there was a pigeon, still young, judging by the yellow baby feathers around his head, desperately trying to hide under the machines. The trouble was, he couldn't walk, and he couldn't fly. He flapped to around six inches above the ground, then crash landed again, dragging a wizened, bent and blackened leg behind him as he skidded painfully across the floor, terrified.
I did a quick recap of the situation. There was a window of 20 minutes for me to get from one teaching job to another, and my home was only 5 minutes away, albeit in the opposite direction. Grabbing the pigeon I stuffed him down my jumper and ran for the car. Once home, I popped him in an old dog kennel, safe from marauding cats and dogs, and drove like James Hunt back to work.
Arriving home again that evening, armed with pigeon corn, I half expected to find him dead, but he was still there, just as scared and just as handicapped.
I showed him to my husband, and one or two friends, some of whom said it would be kinder to kill him then and there as he was obviously deformed from birth and would never make full pigeonhood. I have to admit, I did think they might be right, but I wanted to give this little bird a go...there had to be a reason he chose that moment , when I was walking past, to make his plea for help, didn't there?
So, on we went. Weeks passed, and there was a gradual improvment in Jonny's appearance (I called him Jonny, after the great Jonny Wilkinson, because he could only 'half-fly')so one day I decided to get him out of the kennel and see how his leg was healing.
If I was determined to grab him, Jonny was equally determined that I should not. I lunged, missed, and to both of our astonishments, (can you have a plural astonishment???) he stretched out his wings and flew onto the roof, where he sat in a state of shock. The Half-Fly could fly!

Several more weeks on, Jonny has never looked back, although he shows no sign of wishing to leave. He resides in the smaller of the two barns, having adopted several favourite perches, and on fine, sunny days like today has been, he ventures out for a test flight around the house, and maybe suns himself on the roof of the pergola for a while. His leg is almost healed, pink and straight again, his wings work as they should, and the baby feathers are gone, leaving the glorious iridescent blues, greens and purples around his neck that are so characteristic of pigeons.

So, Jonny stays. He has adopted this as his home, and I enjoy his being there. We have meaningful conversations, wher he puts his head on one side and listend to my rmblings, and he calls out to me when I walk into the barn. There are many who say a pigeon is a flying rat, and should be exterminated, but I have to say, Jonny is a delightful creature, and I am quite proud of my part in his rescue. Long may he stay, and long may he continue to avoid the cats, dogs and birds of prey that are the bane of a pigeon's existence. We have a new family member!