Of gods and goddesses, pigeons and hens

I had a fascinating experience over the weekend. On Thursday night I found a young pigeon, full-feathered but not quite adult, sitting on the pavement. She or he didn’t fly away as I walked close by, and I thought, “that’s strange” but continued on my way.

Twenty minutes later the bird was still there as I made my way home from the shops. I approached, it allowed me to pick it up and I took it home. There were no parents around, watching the youngster from above, and if there had been I’d have left well alone.

But what was wrong with the bird? I had no idea and still don’t know. I’ve no photos to show you—the one to the left is generic. All pigeons, you’d think, are generic—but look at them closely, they have lots of different personalities and faces.

The pigeon was clean, apparently disease-free and appeared in excellent condition. It just couldn’t fly. It wasn’t tame, and never did become tame, although it allowed me to hand-feed it using a pet syringe without resistance. I gave it a mix of chicken layer pellets and water all mashed up into a puree, following advice I found online. Friday and Saturday it refused to eat of its own volition and didn’t do very much. It seemed either exhausted or ill. It picked up within hours of its first hand-feed, just 5ml of gloop.

I named the little creature Nevermore, not intending to keep it unless the bird was likely to die if set free but wanting to have something to call it other than just ‘pigeon’. I think it was a hen but I can’t be certain.

I nursed the baby Nevermore all the way through to late Sunday afternoon, by which time s/he had proven her/himself capable at last of feeding and drinking without help, and of sustained flight in our living room (cats obviously excluded for a time). Maybe it was only just weaning when I found it, perhaps it had crashed and was simply stunned. I’ll never know. If I hadn’t helped that pigeon I’m genuinely doubtful many others would have intervened, or even noticed it sitting and suffering from confusion if not illness.

I do know the encounter was my second in two years with a pigeon needing help, the last having been a racing pigeon that crash-landed in our garden.

I let Nevermore go when I went in the garden with her or him and found the bird eager to be set free. When I did as it was obviously asking me to do, the creature soared into the sky—and settled on our garage roof for the next two hours. Eventually s/he flew off into nearby trees and since then I’ve had one glimpse, possibly. But that’s okay. I hope the bird survives.

I was upset to see a beautiful and huge Red Kite swoop down into the trees, within an hour of setting Nevermore free, and carry off a baby bird in its claws, furiously pursued by the brave mother pecking at its wings in the air to get it to drop her baby. It was a reminder of how cruel and red in tooth and claw nature is. But I know those few days certainly gave Nevermore time out to recover from whatever first brought it down from under the bridge, and the greatest of animal lovers cannot patrol the skies thwarting nature’s opportunists.

I’d gone to the post office to pick up a parcel and came home with a pigeon as well as my parcel. This stuff happens to me. I felt compelled to do some research on Pagan guardians of birds. It was about time I did. Turns out there are many gods and goddesses of birds, but the one I was drawn to was the Welsh goddess Rhiannon.

By way of explanation, let me just say that many of the Pagan persuasion find their gods and goddesses becoming known to them by mysterious ways. We are often drawn in by encounters with the animal or plant kingdoms, books that catch our eyes, revelations that come to us in rain or on warm summer days. Sometimes a divine totem or presence makes itself known by way of a virtual smack between the eyes, other times it knocks on the door and waits for you to answer.

When a Pagan says he or she ‘works’ with a god or goddess, what they mean is they honour that divinity, they acknowledge its power and appeal to it on grounds of it having interest in their lives and relevance, they research that named god and bring it back from history or prehistory into the shared consciousness of the modern world. I work with Brigid, goddess of poetry and smithcraft; Thoth, god of books and penmanship, libraries and knowledge; Bast, goddess of cats and those who care for cats; and now, I intend to work with Rhiannon as well, given my relatively new-found enjoyment of poultry-keeping and my uncanny knack of being positioned by fate (or Rhiannon) to help baby, lost and injured birds I ‘chance’ upon when out and about.

I’m glad I had the experience of helping this one pigeon over the weekend. One more thing of interest to note was the reaction of the chickens when they saw Nevermore in the dog cage that was her/his temporary accommodation. I felt a wave of communal jealousy as they all stared at me, not the newcomer. I actually had to go to them, kneel and talk to them, and watch for a few minutes as they all turned their backs on me, huffing and hooting, until their perpetual gluttony overcame them and they decided to forgive me in hope of some more food.

I know the hens would have ripped Nevermore to shreds, same as any small creature a hen comes across, and I also know I didn’t imagine their all too familiar disturbingly human-like emotions. I’ve seen chickens displaying what appears to be affection, jealousy, tenacity, cowardice, appreciation, spite (lots of spite), curiosity, fear… They even plan, they lie in wait for another bird to pounce on for some offence caused.

It suits some to talk of sentient and non-sentient creatures. I don’t buy it. Animals are far more complicated and self-aware than they are usually given credit for. In me, that realisation manifested itself in a desire to be a vegetarian, and I’ve not eaten meat since about 1991. All I ask of others is that they think, pause, reflect—and at least buy and consume less meat, and only from animals that haven’t been intensively and cruelly farmed, and have been humanely despatched. It’s a holistic view and a non-combative one. Besides, eating your greens is good for you.

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