I awoke bright and early the other morning. As I entered the balcony to retrieve a towel, I saw a surprise visitor.
Huddled in a corner was a white pigeon with flecks of grey. Taken aback to see it grounded instead of wheeling overhead, I stopped in my tracks. I realised it must be frightened to death at the large figure (relatively speaking, of course) looming over it. Although I moved as slowly as I could in order not to frighten it further, I saw its eyes widen as it anticipated my next move. It began puffing up its feathers in an attempt to intimidate me and seemed to grow in volume by the second. I backed off at once.
Removing the towel from the drying rack, I retraced my steps and closed the sliding door. I stood on the other side of the glass door and wondered if it was hurt. Or maybe it was a fledgling. After a close perusal, I decided it certainly wasn’t a baby and neither were there any external signs of injury. Now I was in a quandary. How was I to persuade it to take to the skies and vacate my space? Should I throw the towel over it and then take it outside? But what if it bit me in self-defence even through that thick piece of cloth?
During the next hour, I made several trips back and forth to see if it was moving. It was walking around and even soiling the floor in its distress.
I recalled a friend who suffered from ornithophobia, a fear of birds. The sight of a sparrow entering a room and flapping its wings was enough to make her flap with acute fear. She was convinced it was coming for her. I know what you are thinking ... what’s a sparrow doing in a room. Well, in this instance, she was teaching in an open classroom when the unwelcome intruder flew in. The pupils were amused at her reaction at first but soon realised she was genuinely afraid. That’s when they all began to shoo it away which made it fly frighteningly close to her. Eventually, she had to tell them not to do anything and, for the rest of the lesson, she stood there petrified, waiting for it to take wing.
Fortunately, I don’t suffer from this phobia, but my natural instinct to survive the encounter injury-free made me plan my next move very carefully indeed. I contemplated asking the watchman for help, but dismissed the idea almost immediately. He isn’t exactly the kind who would come running to help. I didn’t want procrastination, What I needed was urgent action before my balcony was taken over by the pigeon.
In fiction, when we read about the cooing of pigeons, it sounds romantic. But, in reality, these birds can be a menace. They are even known to transmit diseases. In buildings with window ACs, they home in on the recesses that they find convenient to roost in. But to the human inhabitant within hearing distance, the noise can grate on the nerves.
Deciding to throw caution to the wind, I stepped outside once again. Taking the towel, I waved it in front of the bird. It began squawking and trying to fly as it tried to avoid being blanketed. As I continued waving the cloth, it suddenly flew towards me as if it were in attack mode.
As I ducked involuntarily, it flew up and away. Its easy flight made me realise it had merely been using my space as a resting place for whatever reason. As it joined its mates on the roof, I swear I could hear it tell the others about its near-death experience.
As for me, I was left to clean up its mess.
