If I started a sports team, it would be racing pigeons, and their mascot would be Bert Pinkfoot.
Bert Pinkfoot was a racing pigeon who absconded a race and somehow ended up in my backyard. I knew he was a racing pigeon because he had green bands on both ankles. He was also rather tame. He arrived several Septembers ago, and I knew he wasn’t from around here, because we don’t have many pigeons where I live. That and the bands, as I mentioned. There are plenty of mourning doves, but no pigeons.
I immediately called the local bird sanctuary, and asked about this racing pigeon in my backyard, who had attracted a local flock of doves. As a matter of fact, all the female doves were quite impressed with Bert and tried to get his attention. Bert was a working man, he was a racing bird, and he was not interested in any female attention (this is when some doves cried).
The woman at the bird sanctuary told me that Bert likely left a race. My understanding is these birds race from point A to point B and back to point A, as pigeons are trained to do. She told me it was likely if I tried to return the bird to its owner, the owner would likely kill the bird because he absconded the race and lost the owner money. She also said that there had been a race about 300 miles north, and that he probably was from that race.
I wasn’t sure what to do with Bert. I had already been feeding and giving water to the “normal” birds, so he had a bit of an all-you- can eat buffet and sanctuary in my backyard. The woman also told me that he’d be likely to be eaten by hawks because he was raised to be a racing pigeon, and had no true exposure to the outside, natural world. At least not while he was trying to sleep.
Bert hung around for several weeks, though he never joined in with the doves. He tolerated his distant cousins, and maybe he found solace with them. We’ll never know why he left the race – whether he was seeking freedom or he got lost – but after about two weeks, Bert was no longer in my backyard. I didn’t see him again. I like to think he found his freedom and flew to a nearby city to be with his brethren city pigeons. I don’t think of the alternative.
Politics being one of the three things we should never discuss, I am abstaining from today’s daily prompt. I have a pumpkin pie to bake. Oh no! I shouldn’t have mentioned the pumpkin. Forget I said anything.
VW Cabriolet, circa 1989. Silver. Second favorite color: dark blue.
VW Cabriolet
VW did shortened the name and introduced the VW Cabrio in the 1990s, but as I’m researching this, I’m finding they didn’t introduce the Cabrio until the late 1990s. This doesn’t make sense, because the cutest boy at school, Mark R., was driving around his girlfriend in a VW Cabrio in a light shade of purple/gray with a dark purple/gray top earlier than the late 1990s. I loved this car. About 75% of Mark’s allure was his car. Anyone know what shade I’m talking about here? I cannot find the shade online. (Ha. Unintentional pun: “I cannot find the shade online.” If you can’t find the “shade” online, you haven’t gone online…)
I’m still trying to find one of these cars at a price point I can afford. So far, I can afford one without wheels or an engine. As these cars are now considered classic, they are outrageously priced, and since I want one that actually drives, that’s going to be a tough find.
My mother told me that when I was little I would stare at people to size them up without saying a word. But she didn’t need to tell me that I did it, I remember doing it. I did it even before I could talk. I can imagine a baby silently observing an adult would be a little unnerving for the adult. As I got older and continued to do it, people would say that I was a brat or spoiled or whatever other hurtful phrases they sputtered because they were afraid. These were people that had something to hide. I’m not quite as obvious about it anymore. I do it with every person I meet, it’s not an ability that I can control. I sense the essence of a person, whether good or otherwise, without them ever saying a word. I was born this way. There are other attributes of claircognizance. Check out this page for more information about the phenomenon. Do any of you have the ability? Or any other ability that seems unique to you? I’d love to read your comments!
When I am creating another world through writing, showing a glimpse of a world through photography, sometimes combining the two. Making basil pesto pasta sauce from scratch. Baking brownies. Spending time with animals. Wrapping Christmas presents.
Creating something or some things that will be perceived by or given to others for their hopeful enjoyment is usually when I am most happy.
Watching tennis makes me happy. I’m not creating anything but noise for anyone else, but I enjoy watching tennis, especially from the stands.
I am also most happy in the summer. When I can walk through the soft, cool grass, with bare feet and feel like the warm air is an enveloping calming blanket, I am content – the combination of happiness and stillness.
If you don’t have kids, you have to imbue a kid like Spirit within yourself by yourself. The best way to stay young at heart is through play. Play is really creativity with a silly face.
I play every day. I play with my cat, I put googly eyes on candles, I send my friends silly memes, I break out into song and dance without forewarning.
Kids are always a big inspiration for fun things, so if you have young kids in your family, or your friends have young kids, sit with them on the floor or hang out with them outside looking at Christmas lights. But don’t spend too much time analyzing what they’re doing, just get on the floor and play. Use your imagination to build a Barbie house or a big fort. Imagine among the Christmas lights live tiny fairies that bestow positive wishes on each person who passes underneath. Write a kids’ story with a kid. There are a million ways to play, and to have fun each day you simply have to look for your opportunities. Before you know it, you’ll be playing.
Describe a *person* who has positively impacted your life.
She was both mother and father. Even when my father was alive, my mother was my father. Everything good that I’ve learned, I’ve learned from her. It was not a perfect relationship, but she was my best friend, and positively affected my life. My father, for his part, gave me these hands and these eyes, and this technical brain. Don’t get me wrong, he was impactful. Sort of like an asteroid hitting earth. Someone wise once said, “Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift.” Mary Oliver.
Thanks for the darkness, dad.
Thanks for the light, Mom.
Mother and Child – an extract from The Three Ages of Woman by Gustav Klimt
“It's Amy,” I said. 