The Dead Pigeon
Every now and then something happens, and leave you quite unsettled. And even after thinking, it takes a while before you can come to terms with the event. The story of the dead pigeon is one of these occasions.
It was almost one o'clock in the morning when I arrived from a four week holiday in the Caribbean and Florida. I was very tired since I had started the journey almost thirty six hours before, including overnighting on a bench at Boston airport.
The house seemed slightly messy and crowded, but then I had left in a hurry. And because it was winter, young tropical plants were, as usual, hibernating everywhere. I decided to go straight to bed after I had had a look around. On my way out, I noticed a large mound of gravel and sand at the bottom of the fireplace. This seemed unusual, almost as if the inner walls of the chimney had started to disintegrate. I gave it a little thought and then went to bed.
The next morning after investigating, I was still puzzled, as there seemed no logical answer. That was when I notice the first sign of feathers, and then on closer inspection some bid droppings. A careful look around revealed nothing. I went downstairs and continued my chores. There was a lot to be done, and I hurried myself. Later that afternoon, I came back up and had another look around the room, carefully studying its contents. As I turned my head I noticed a grey object in the far side. That was when I saw it, almost completely hidden in the corner, a rather large grey dead pigeon. I was sure that it was dead because its head was nowhere to be seen.
It unnerved me somehow, and therefore my first thought was to get rid of it quickly. But I could not dig a hole and bury it, because it was all snowed up outside. And then suddenly there was the other thought ... how did it get inside? The windows were shut, and there were no obvious signs of .... Then I remembered the mound at the bottom of the chimney. It must have come in that way. via the top of the chimney.
I will never know for sure what killed it; it had to be either the freezing weather outside, or the perilous passage down the chimney. Neither suggested an easy end. But for me, its presence remained unsettling. And very soon, it was on its way to its final resting place.
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