A week or so ago, two pigeons were flying around outside my office window. The following day one flew right at my front door and actually banged into it. I thought it might be stunned so I went outside. There was nothing…not even a feather. I figured they were building a nest somewhere and so I shrugged it off and went back to work.
On the Saturday, I heard peeping from my office window, and a ton of bumping and other noises. My thoughts went immediately to a roadrunner attacking one of the bunnies that had a home underneath the bushes near my garage. I rushed outside ready to chase off the roadrunner and accidentally scared off a mother duck and her four ducklings. Mama ran off, quacking up a storm. I was about to enter the house when I caught a glimpse of a duckling upside down in a pool of muddy water. The sprinklers had just shut down and left a nice duckling sized lake. The little guy was still kicking. I righted him, and he ran into a corner of the yard and hid. It took me ten minutes to grab him and by that time mama duck and her brood had disappeared. It took me two hours in 105 degree temperature to find her nest. I was not happy, but I was determined not to become a freakin’ duck mother.
The little guy, who I’d named The Donald, because he had a tuft of downy yellow feathers on top of his head, was so happy to return to his brothers and sisters. Mama on the other hand charged at me flapping her wings and trying to peck me. Dumb duck.
I’m sure The Donald’s storytelling went like this:
“And the giant drove me around in a big red car and it had air conditioning.”
“I’m not kidding…it was soooo cool.”
“Yeah, she was kind of nice. Gentle. She had these big mounds on her chest and she let me nestle between them and I could hear the same sound Mama has. Lub dup, lub dup, lub dup…it made me sleepy.”
“Seriously. Same sound. I even kissed her on the finger a couple of times. She made me a swimming pool, and she got me a dish of mud and grass but I don’t know what she expected me to do with it. And she even put some crumbs of something white on it but I remembered Mama said don’t eat the stuff the giants give you or you’ll get a stomach ache, and—”
“The car? You want to hear more about that? Wait. I need to tell you about how she thought I was a prince or something.”
“Yeah, a prince. Stop laughing. She called me The Donald. Not just plain old Donald. The Donald. Like I was the prince of ducks.”
“Okay. That’s it. If you’re gonna laugh like that I’m not telling you anything else. Good night.”
On Friday, I bought a new book and stretched out on the couch in the living room in the late afternoon. I could hear really loud peeping and birds singing. The doors and windows were closed. It was around happy hour ,and I imagined the birds having a cocktail after a long day. I smiled and kept on reading, and the volume of the singing increased as evening came. I looked toward the fireplace and thought, “No!” I opened up the glass doors and swept back the mesh wire and got down on the floor with a flash light. There was no sign of birds in the chimney, at least for as far as I could see. But the noise? Oy! The volume was incredible. I have a flat roof. The roof is covered by our home owners association and we’re not supposed to climb up on them. I thought about doing that, and then I remembered I’m not as young as I used to be. It was Friday afternoon and the office was closed. I’d have to wait it out until Monday and hope the nest is near, but not within, the chimney.
I closed the book, and ate dinner while watching Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy. The TV is in an alcove right next to the fireplace. The birds got quiet. I wondered if they were enjoying the shows. Maybe Mama Pigeon was telling them to hush and learn something.
The next morning I was thinking about the pigeons and the duckling as I pulled out of the garage to go and exercise. I wondered what the third thing that flew would be, and how it would have to arrive at my front door to make the circle complete. I glanced toward the door and noticed something white on the mat. I pulled up and went to see what had arrived. It was a little package from Romance Writers of America, in Houston. Inside was an invitation to the RITA and Golden Heart Finalists reception, and a GH pin. It’s a lovely golden heart, of course, and I immediately pinned it to my exercise top and set off for the day with a big smile on my face. Even though you can’t see the print, here is the invitation with the GH pin attached.
I find that things, good and bad, always seem to come in threes. What about you? Does this happen to you?
Oh, and an update on the pigeons. I think it got too hot up there on the rooftop, or they didn’t like my late night television watching, because they’ve vacated their condominium. Thank goodness. Tonight is my favorite show, The Voice, I wonder if they’d have sung along?