Off-Course
I was banded in 2018, in a small town in Indiana. Learning the ropes was hard at first. My wings had feathered and I learned how to fly, however, remembering where my home base was located was complicated. Each time they let me go, I was further away from my starting point. There were all these different trees and houses. But Mother Earth was my guide. Her geomagnetic fields became more and more familiar. It was a lot easier during the summer as I could recognize some of the smells from my trainer’s garden as I got closer. As I got older, the daytime and nighttime skies with the sun and all their recognizable stars became my map. Even when I was left high in the mountains, I learned to navigate the mountain skies to find my way home.
But then that fateful day came. I was taken away. You can’t really see where you are being taken when you are put in a box. The trip was long, far longer than I have ever been left in this box. When I was released, I found myself where the ocean meets the sky. There are no oceans in Indiana, nor any other places nearby. Something was wrong. I had no idea where to go except not over the ocean.
So I flew, and I flew, seeking out anything that seemed familiar. Even Mother Earth was conspiring against me. Her signals sent me everywhere. And I flew. Exhausted, I landed on a paved surface. I felt grounded, unable to think.
It was then I was picked up. But I did not recognize the face. And again I was placed in a box and transported away once more. If I don’t finish my mission home, I will be labeled a failure. I will be of no use to my trainer. I’ve seen what happens to those who fail and it’s not pretty.
This sanctuary is different. There are no demands on me, there is food, water, and shelter. I have faith in their ability to help me survive, even if I don’t make it back to Indiana. My parents may have given me roots, but this place has given me hope. Maybe my purpose is not to race, it is to survive and thrive. Only time will tell.
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*Author’s note – This story is somewhat fictional, the racing (homing) pigeon however is not. The pigeon was banded in 2018 somewhere in Indiana and recently found in the Boston area, over 900 miles away. Racing pigeons have been known to fly between 600-700 miles in a single day.
