When people think about kindness, they usually think about helping other people. Mine involved a pigeon.
It all started when my mum and sister spotted a rather well-fed pigeon wandering around our garden. We feed the birds anyway, so having them around isn’t unusual, but this one seemed to have moved in. Mum quickly named him Fred, because apparently every regular garden visitor needs a name.
Being the sceptic that I am, I pointed out one small flaw in Fred’s retirement plan: our garden is regularly visited by cats and foxes. A pigeon that spends all day walking around instead of flying isn’t exactly setting itself up for success. Unfortunately, I was right.
The next morning, my sister called me outside. There was Fred again, except this time it was obvious why he’d been avoiding the skies. His wing was injured. He couldn’t fly and was struggling to get around. Leaving him there didn’t seem like much of an option.
So, Fred was promoted from “garden visitor” to “house guest.” Our luxury accommodation consisted of a laundry basket lined with newspaper, complete
with bird seed and fresh water. (Five-star service, of course) While Fred settled into his temporary suite, I started searching for somewhere that could
actually help him.
Pigeons get a terrible reputation. People call them pests or “flying rats,” but they’re much more interesting than most people realise. Humans bred pigeons for thousands of years, and they even carried messages during wars, helping save countless lives. After technology replaced them, we pretty much forgot about them, and now they’re often treated as if they’re worthless. Personally, I think they deserve a bit more respect. After a lot of searching, I finally found a wildlife sanctuary willing to take Fred.
There was just one catch.
It was an hour away.
Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem. Except I was still learning to drive, and this would only be my third drive. Not ideal when your passenger is an injured pigeon.
Thankfully, my driving instructor agreed to come with us. So off we went: me behind the wheel, my instructor making sure we all survived the journey, my sister navigating, and Fred quietly judging my driving from his laundry basket.
We finally arrived, handed Fred over to the sanctuary staff, and they immediately took him in. They gave us a reference number so we could check how he was getting on, and before leaving we made a donation to support all the amazing work they do. We even had a wander around the sanctuary while we were there.
A few weeks later, I gave them a call. “Fred’s doing well,” they told me. That was all I needed to hear!
Helping Fred probably won’t make the history books. But it reminded me that kindness isn’t always about grand gestures. Sometimes it’s about noticing a scruffy pigeon with a bad wing, putting him in a laundry basket, driving an hour across the county, and hoping he gets another chance.
I like to think Fred appreciated the five-star accommodation while it lasted.
