ANOTHER BIRD-STORY.
[To THE EDITOR OF THE 4' SPROTAT011."3 have read with pleasure the stories of bird-life which appear from time to time in your paper, and as it may in- terest some of your readers, I send you the following narra- tive. Some years ago, my father had a pair of common white pigeons. They were very tame, and became very much attached to him ; so much so that they were almost his con- stant companions, accompanying him in his walks, or when out driving. They would answer his whistle like a dog, and would alight on his proffered hand, or enter his pocket if opened for them. A sceptical friend thought they would show the same familiarity to any other person, and, to give them a fair trial, he procured a suit of clothes of the same colour as that which my father wore. Arrayed in his disguise, our sceptical friend, imitating my father's whistle as nearly as possible, whistled to the pigeons. Immediately they left their perch on the house-top and flew down to the hand held out to receive them ; but when they came within a few yards of it, they suddenly checked themselves, fluttered perplexedly for a few moments around our friend, and then flew back to the house-top. This was conclusive evidence. But a sad accident happened. One morning one of the pigeons was found upon the high-road dead, its body bearing marks of injury ; but from what cause we never knew. We carried the dead body home, and buried it in a sunny and quiet spot in the garden. For three days the surviving pigeon, with untiring energy, searched the country far and near for its mate, but in vain. It refused to touch food, and even the influence which my father usually exercised over it, was gone. On the third day we found it dead in the dovecot, its little heart broken with grief by the loss of it lifelong companion. We buried it beside its mate. Since then my father has never kept pets.—I am, Sir, he.,
Previous page
