Steve

When I arrive at the barn each day, I'm usually greeted by my wonderful barn manager. She says things like, "Hi, friend!" and, "How are you today?" and, "This weather makes me want to kill myself," if conditions are sub-optimal. But until yesterday, I'd never heard her say, "Do you want a pigeon? His name is Steve."

Steve, it turns out, is one in a succession of Steves. Apparently there is someone nearby with a flock of domestic pigeons that will escape, fly to the fam, and then promptly die of exhaustion. Domestic pigeons do not have a great homing instinct and literally don't know how to find food in the wild, so once they leave home things usually don't end well for them. 

I've learned a lot about pigeons in the past 12 hours. 

So here we had poor Steve, far from home, very tired, and in a situation that could quickly turn fatal for him. And there I was, the sole bird owner in the place, my bleeding heart displayed clearly on my sleeve. 

Naturally, I said I'd take Steve, and at the very least, get him fed and watered and rested while we decided what we ought to do with the poor guy. 

Of course, as soon as we went to catch Steve and put him in a cat carrier for his own safety, he caught his second wind! Steve could fly! HE WAS OUTTA HERE! He flew out of the barn, and we wandered around like crazy people calling out, "Steve? STEVE? WHERE ARE YOU, STEVE???"

Thankfully Steve's miraculous recovery didn't last long, and my barn manager soon scooped him up from the kickboard in the indoor where he'd landed. We stuffed him in a cat carrier. He was a little traumatized. 

"Um... wut?" - Steve

When they fly too far from home, domestic pigeons will also get so exhausted they just stop eating and drinking. This was my fear for Steve. My goal was to get him back to my house ASAP and hope he ate some chicken feed and wild bird seed to regain his strength. 

Luckily, Steve is a champ and started eating pretty soon after I provided appropriate bird food. (i.e. not gluten-free Cheetos. Those are not pigeon-approved snacks.) I tucked him into our shed for the night, and hoped I'd see his bright little face alive and well in the morning. 

Goodnight, Steve.

As of this morning, Steve is alive and well! I moved him into the penthouse suite (a spare dog crate) and he is currently snacking away and living the life on my front porch. Pigeons need other pigeons for company, or else they have to live inside with people, so I'm not sure if Steve will be a permanent resident of the Little House on the Ridge, but he'll at least be safe and fed at my place until we find him a forever home! 

Luxury digs!