Mr. Squeaks: A Pigeon's Tale or How to Live with Fur and Feathers PART I

[mr squeaks]

The Beginning…

Little did I know how my life and my cat’s lives would change one Sunday morning in November 2003. My hobby is Scavenging: For Fun, Profit and Exercise. On the weekends, I start my scavenging walks at dawn. That fateful Sunday, I headed next door to Burger King, which is located near a busy main street. Passing by the drive-thru window, there was a pigeon sitting next to the drive-thru curb. He seemed to be resting and not in danger from cars coming through. I said “Hello, pigeon” and kept going. Heading home over an hour later, the pigeon was still in the same spot. Checking him more carefully, I noticed he had blood on one wing and was also wearing a green band on each leg. I couldn’t just leave him so I decided to catch him. Although he couldn’t fly, he sure could walk! He headed toward some bushes as fast as he could go. If he reached the bushes he might escape if something wasn’t done soon. Before he could hide, a lucky toss of my light windbreaker captured him. Arriving home with a jacket-covered bird, I immediately called Wild at Heart for help. They referred me to Dennis, who lived in my part of town and had pigeons. Thank goodness Dennis was home that morning! When I explained about the pigeon and the green band he had on each leg, Dennis said that I had a racing homing pigeon! I had heard of racing homing pigeons, but knew nothing about them. A pigeon is a pigeon, right? Wrong! I had no idea that there were so many people who had racing pigeons in Arizona and the Valley. There are local, national and international organizations and Dennis was part of this select group. Dennis gave me a phone number to call to find the owner through the letters and numbers on one of the green bands. However, all I could find out was that the original purchaser has died and there was no record of a current owner. Dennis was kind enough to let me bring the injured pigeon to his home so he could check him out. I wasn’t surprised when Dennis said he had a broken wing. With gusty winds the day before, there was a good possibility the pigeon had been hit by a car. Dennis also told me that I had a “squeaker.” What in the world was a “squeaker?” Dennis explained that a “squeaker” is a young pigeon and he estimated that my pigeon was only about 35 days old. I had a very hard time believing that this pigeon could be so young. He looked like an adult bird! Racing homing pigeons are bred for speed, endurance and stamina and have a different look than feral pigeons. They can also be BIG pigeons. Dennis thought this pigeon had been on a training flight before he ran into trouble. I promptly named the pigeon “Mr. Squeaks,” now affectionately called “Squeaks” or “Squeakers.” I was taking a chance because there was no way to tell, at this time, whether I had a male or female. Dennis thought I had a male and I had the same feeling. All I had to do was wait until he stopped squeaking. If he had the pigeon “chortle,” I had a male. However, first things first - Squeaks needed a doctor. Once again, Dennis came to the rescue and recommended Dr. Burke, an Avian Specialist/Veterinarian, who also had pigeons of his own. There was no way I was going to let this pigeon die without a fight! How I would keep a bird with four cats in a one-bedroom apartment would be figured out later! So, the next day, Squeaks and I went to see Dr. Burke. At first glance, Dr. Burke thought he would only have to clean the wound and bandage the wing. Wrong! Closer examination showed the wing was badly broken (hitting a car can do that!) and would require surgery. The fee was very reasonable and the next day, with a bright blue bandage on his wing, Squeaks and I drove home to begin our living journey.

The Cats

Of course, all four cats were quite curious about this new “meal with wings” invading their territory. At this point, I need to introduce my cats. Bubba Louie is my 16-year-old Scottish Fold and the “old” man of the group. I raised Bubba from a kitten and he is so laid back that he is nicknamed the “Quaalude” kitty. Next are siblings Timmy Troll and Twiggy Dee. Both are 2 years old and started life outside. I also raised them from kitten hood. Timmy is very shy and earned the middle name “Troll” because he lived under my bed for almost 2 weeks after I brought him indoors. He is a solid gray cat who resembles a Russian Blue but heavier. Actually, he is quite a bit heavier because he lives to eat. He is one of those cats who “looks” at food and gains a pound! Twiggy was a twin but her sister was put to sleep due to seizures. She is all black, quite slender and, if human, would be walking down a runway modeling the latest in fur. Last but not least is Gypsy Lea. She too is all black but quite a large cat. She was a stray and decided that our home was going to be her home! She was young and possibly around the same age as Twiggy and Timmy. Before I let her inside, she and Timmy developed a special bond. He would sit on his haunches and stare at her through the screen door. She stared back. After a few weeks of observing their actions, I finally opened the door and let her in. She casually walked throughout the apartment checking things out with Twiggy and Timmy, just as casually, following. Returning to the living room, she stretched out, looked around with an expression that said, “I’m home.” And so she was! Gypsy is also the “mother” of the group. She loves to lick Timmy and seems to think that he is her kitten. They play, groom and sleep together. Gypsy also finds Bubba’s tiny ears a special treat to lick. Twiggy and Gypsy have a “tolerated” relationship. Twiggy’s major delight in life is to catch Gypsy off guard and get in a whack or two on her flank before Gypsy knows what happened. If laughter is the best medicine and helps promote a long life, I should live well beyond 100 watching the antics of 4 cats and 1 bird with “attitude!”

Recovering and Adjusting

When acclimating Timmy and Twiggy to their new home, I had purchased a large wire cage. This container became Squeaker’s new home. Adjustment can take time and Squeakers needed lots of time! We slowly found out things about each other. I was determined to pet him and he was determined not to let me. He would growl (yes, pigeons growl!), wing slap and peck at my hand if I tried to get too close. Did you know that pigeons have sharp beaks?! Since he had to be checked out by Dr. Burke, I was able to gently pin his wings next to his body and place him in the cat carrier, ignoring his pecks and complaints. By the time we had made a few visits, I was getting to be an old hand at handling him. The day finally came when the bandage was removed. Birds are supposed to be fast healers but Squeakers did not seem to cooperate. Soon his wing started to droop, so off we went – again – to see Dr. Burke. Once again the wing was bandaged and we were to return in two weeks. When the bandage was removed this time, Dr. Burke said that the wing just wasn’t healing and Squeaks would require another surgery. From the start I was told that Squeaks would never fly, but up to that point, I said that once the wing was healed, Squeaks was just ornery enough to fly again! I also said, half in jest, that the bird hated me! He continued to peck, wing slap and growl despite my efforts to be “friends.” I can be very stubborn and was determined to win Squeaks’ affections. Since he was so young, time was on my side. This final surgery took away any chance Squeaks had of flying because the flight feathers were removed. Dr. Burke assured me that once his wing healed, one would have to look closely to see that he had a part of his wing missing. He also said that pigeons make wonderful pets. So far, that remained to be seen. Well, Squeaks, the cats and I were now bound for life. Since he couldn’t fly, I could not let him go. He was going to be an apartment bird.

Friends…at last

THIS time, he healed rapidly and Dr. Burke was right. Unless he flaps his wings, it’s hard to tell he only has one full wing. While he can’t fly, he can hop up in the air a foot or two. Even though he’s not even a year old, he looks like a full-grown bird – a BIG full-grown bird. Pigeons fall into various color (morph) categories and Squeakers is a Blue Bar – the first pattern that comes to mind when I think of pigeons: gray with black bars on his wings. His long neck now has beautiful purple and green iridescent feathers. With his fine shaped head, he is quite the handsome bird. He thinks so too!

Every day of handling, whether he liked it or not, finally paid off. Of course, with a healed wing, he was probably feeling better too. His voice started changing and for awhile, he became a “croaker” rather than a “squeaker.” Then, one day, he chortled at me! I knew it…a male bird! Squeaks and I have definitely bonded. Actually, he considers me his mate or so the people who know pigeons say. He chortles, coos and spreads his tail feathers for me. We’ve developed what I call a “grab the beak and scratch” routine. While sitting with him one day, he started planting little pecks on my fingers. I would gently grab his beak and hold for a moment. At one point, as I lifted my hand, he squatted down and lifted his wings. After I stopped scratching under his wings and back, he would quickly straighten up and walk around with his tail feathers spread – mating behavior. Now, I can hold, pet and scratch him just about any time. He will follow me wherever I go and come when I call him.

[pigeonmama]

Well, I loved the story about Mr. Squeaks. So sorry Mr. Pigeon Man and Real Mr Squeaker couldn't enjoy such a nice story.
daryl

[Reti]

Thank you for sharing this wonderful story.

Reti

[CHARLES3]

Wow What A Great. Touching Story...i Enjoyed It..you Write Very Well..thanks

[mr squeaks]

Mr. Squeaks and I appreciate all your comments. He is doing just great and continues to chase the cats and rule the roost! He has the run of the apartment when I'm here and is a very spoiled bird!

Be sure and read both Part I and II. If I had known what I was doing, I would have put them consecutively rather than separately!