(Since today is another of those lazy "ligid2" days, I found myself browsing through some of my previous blogs. So whatever was on those blogs, was what I thought of that time. It's fascinating how fascinated I can be about what interestingly used to conspire in my mind, just like this one.)
My uncle has been breeding pigeons even before I was born. As a little kid I remember going to his coop and seeing him brushing their feathers. Then I remember seeing him let the beautiful feathered creature fly into the sky.
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| (c) Aaron Wojack 2010 |
In confusion I told mother what I saw. Such a terrible sight to see, knowing that my uncle loved his animals. She reassured me with an amused smile, “That pigeon knows where home is, your uncle lets him fly so he can enjoy freedom and to let his wings stretch. When the pigeon realizes it’s time for supper, he will come home.”
I forgot to ask if there ever was a pigeon that never came home. I believed that all homing pigeons always flew home.
Now as a young adult, I do realize that there really have been those who never did fly back. Those who may have been too injured to fly home, unfortunately lost their lives, stolen by others, or maybe found a place too glorious to fly back to his original home (this last one I’m not sure of).
Regardless of the what predicament may follow the pigeon, I admire the principle my uncle has practiced. He knows that there is a possibility that his birds may not fly home, but he knows that for their sake they need to be free.
Fly home if you will pigeon. You may or you may not; this coop is under renovation.
08-30-2011
