the pigeon

I looked out my window last early night and there was the pigeon standing kneee deep in the pond. The pigeon has become my holder of sadness. People call me to take orphaned or injured animals so I raise them up or watch them die. Both come naturally to me. This pigeon I raised and it thrived and  released from my roof. There is a pond not 10 feet from my cabin door full of wild mallards It is always amazing to watch a bird fly for the first time. This one flew right to the ducks. Later that release day I opened my door and there was the pigeon wings dragging out dripping water soaked on my door step. I put it back in it's babycoop and brought it inside for the night. In the morning it was dry and ready to re-try it's new life as a wild pigeon. It never tried to land in the pond again but hasn't given up on the ducks. It spends it's days on the island stones along the pond edge. At night it sleeps under my porch eave. Sometimes it tries to land on the duck backs while they swim. So I look out my window and see a misfit, a children's book called "The Sad Pigeon" and winter is coming. I think I am giving my sorrow of leaving this cabin to the pigeon, my feelings of homelessness in this Valley. The pigeon looks stronger than the fat ones in town. It has taken on a duck demeanor. Today I cleaned out the attic. The mice and squirrels have used everything for bedding and storage . I am surprised at how little they have gnawed. Wool blankets and sweaters all intact but they filled my whole shop vac with acorns which they carried through the whole length of hose to enter. It was so heavy to carry out and then a mystery to open. It was damp inside and many of the acorns had sprouted. Once I put my cello up there in it's hard case while I travelled. When I took it down and opened it a mouse jumped out one of the f holes. That was some fancy mouse house.