A FRIENDLY PIGEON.
[To THE EDITOR OF THE "SPECTATOR:1
Sia,—In confirmation of "W. A. W.'s" assertion in last week's Spectator that pigeons seek us out in our homes, he may be interested in the following. About five o'clock one morning last July I awoke with the feeling that some- thing was moving in my room (I may remark that my window was open), and sitting up to investigate the matter, I was startled by a pigeon hopping up on to the rail at the foot of my bed. Much pleased with my visitor, I softly cooed to him, whereupon he put his head on one side and eyed me with some curiosity, but evidently without any fear. Getting gently out of bed, I took a tennis-racket and tried to make him perch on the handle, but this he evaded each time by hopping over it. Finding he was quite tame, I took him in my hand, and put him on the sill outside the window, upon which be tried to come in again. I shut the window, and then he strutted up and down the sill for some time, probably thinking the three horizontal bars were a cage and prevented his escape. At last, however, he discovered that by lowering his head half-an-inch he could get under the lowest bar, and so my pretty friend flew away.—I am, Sir, &a, W. B.-g.
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