“Dear Parmalee,
Last week, I read a guest essay on pigeons. It compared woods dwelling pigeons with their city dwelling brethren.
It drew a lot of comments, one in particular from Grace was one of the sweetest, best composed pieces of short writing I have ever read. Grace’s story has several profound levels of thought, all in three short paragraphs.
I enclose a copy of it as I thought you might enjoy it too.”
B
“Letters to the NYT – June 25 – re Article on Pigeons
Grace
PDX June 24
When I was 10, my father brought home an injured pigeon he found on his way home from work in the city. We took the bird to our vet who said her wing was broken, but there was nothing we could do except make her comfortable.
My father built her a tiny shed in our garden, where she could come and go as she pleased. After a few months of healthy eating, her feathers became iridescent and her wing seemed to be healing. We watched as she sat in the sun with our protective German Shepherd dog nearby. Slowly she began to exercise her injured wing, moving it up and down and stretching. Then after a while she’d fly up a few feet into the air and return to her spot in the sun. After doing her own version of physical therapy, the pigeon seemed fully recovered and was able to fly up into our apple tree. When we called her name, she would fly down and perch on our outstretched hands.
We loved that little bird, and were very sad when one day she saw a group of pigeons flying overhead and flew up to join them. We never saw her again, but were very grateful for the time she spent with us.”
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