I freed a pidgeon this morning. I had him since April. I remember it was the 14th because it's the day the Spanish 2nd Republic was established and my father, who had died 13 days prior, used to celebrate it. If you don't know, after Franco's coup d'état and dictatorship Spain became a "democratic monarchy", so it wasn't an official national holiday. I thought about it being a sign or an excuse to process grief. But it was just a mauled pigeon at my neighbor's door.
When I found the pigeon, Jo-Jo after a private joke, he was in a very bad shape. A broken wing and a broken leg that looked infected, with its bones mending in the wrong position and no sensitivity. Other pidgeons had plucked the feathers off its back and tail to drive him away, a normal behavior towards the sick or injured to avoid drawing predators to the flock. I knew jackshit about pigeons before, other than the act that they're smarter and more capable of bonding with humans than they're given credit for.
I asked the civil authority what to do, they said pigeons are not protected and considered pest, so I could do whatever I saw fit. I tried to leave Jo-Jo near a fountain but three pidgeons fell on him instantly and I couldn't leave him there. I took him in, cleaned his wounds and assumed he'd die in a few days.
He didn't. He got a fever. I kept checking on him, cleaning his wounds, keeping him hydrated, slowly accepting that I'd need to put him down myself. My spouse couldn't, my mother wouldn't (farm child trauma) and I didn't have the money for the vet.
He got over the fever. His feathers started to grow. He started to be able to use his bad leg, so I was finally able to keep his bad wing in place (bandaging it while he supported all his weight on one leg made him fall forward and shake off the bandage). It was too late though. It healed wrong and he got an abscess. I spent days draining it, the fever came and went, and Jo-Jo hated our guts but wasn't strong enough to do anything about it.
He finally healed. Feathers shinning, skin unblemished, appetite strong, sass over the roof. He couldn't fly, just jump, but the ends of his tail feathers were starting to fray on the cage bars. Yesterday, walking out a friend's house, we found a baby bat. Our friends took him in and gave him to the authorities (bats are protected here).
When we got home I checked on Jo-Jo and saw the tip of a tail feather on the floor. I tried to think about the bat as a sign, but it was just a bat confused by the heat and the World Cup fireworks. I told Jo-Jo: "You're out on the street tomorrow". This morning he intended to go on his own two feet but I picked him up and sighed patiently through his wing flaps of protest.
At 7 am I set him down on the ground of a shaded park behind my street, near a fountain where someone had put a tray down so water would pool and allow birds and cats and dogs to drink. Some pidgeons landed near him and cooed. He cooed back. They left each other alone. I stayed around in case the others took issue with his lacking flying skills but they left him be, and drink and feed on grass and green date seeds fallen from a huge palm tree.
I was afraid the whole time. My friends and family found it funny and they were even surprised by the way I handled the bird "very firm but gentle, you know what you're doing". I did not. Not before I was doing it, no. It was muscular memory from someone else.
"How did you know it had a fever?"
"He was hot. A lot warmer to the touch than the last time I picked him up."
"How did you think of draining the abscess?"
"It was pus. Pus has to go out."
"I'd be very sorry but I would have left it to die."
"I had no time or resources for this, but I couldn't. I tried and I couldn't. Muscle memory from someone else."
I was afraid that it'd be too much for me and I'd kill him by neglect. I was afraid he'd die on me. I was afraid I was making it worse. I am afraid I shouldn't have freed an almost flightless pigeon even if I reasoned he knew the area and there's shade and shelter and water and plenty of food, both natural and human made.
I fear so much and feared so many things through it., but I did it. I didn't knew I could, I didn't know what to do until I was doing it. Someone else's muscle memory. I never knew, I'll never know if that someone was right and knew what they were doing. It's a bit scary. And it's not the first time.
