Important Visitors!

It was a Sunday afternoon. I was busy on the toilet. Pigeon fanciers indeed are in many respects quite normal people. The passed week had been boring. 

As I was the treasurer, the moneyman of our pigeon club it had once again been my task to write the annual financial review. That turned out to be a disaster  for  some small amount of money ended up on the wrong spot in my cashier book and caused  a chain reaction of stupid mistakes. 

I phoned the chairman of my pigeon club and accused him from having been joggling with a couple of euros. I  grumbled ‘You will have to replace me; just find yourself a new bookkeeper .’ But he wasn’t in any way impressed by my complaint. So I ended the conversation.

To make matters worse one evening my cocks were out of the blue afraid of landing on their loft in the October twilight. They kept fluttering and hovering around the house for hours it rather seemed and finally flopped down upon the roof tiles like sandbags. 

Stupid birds! Sometimes travelling on a long distance race they keep carelessly flying into the growing darkness and when they arrive home somewhere in the middle of the night they run into their pigeon house without any fear. 

On all these things I was meditating at ease while spending time on the lavatory.

The doorbell rang. I heard boys voices. No doubt they were collecting old newspapers. They had to wait. First of all I liked to finish my reverie.
I glanced at the picture of a snowy owl on the calendar. A New years present  that the Pigeon magazine every year sends  to its contributors; a calendar with all kinds of birds and animals.
Swans taking off A  couple of wolves in February, a seagull in April and for instance a lion in August.  
From a pigeon paper one would expect something with flying and breeding pigeons.       

 Outside I heard one of the boys say: ‘He must be a nice man,’  he usually  is at home, wait and see. He’ll give me what I want.’ 

I pressed the water button in the toilet,  widely opened the front door and  roared:’  and  okay, and what is it  you think you’ll get from me?’

‘Pigeons, sir,’ replied the smallest of the two boys. ‘I’ve got pigeons, two cocks, sir, and they fight a lot because their women pigeons have flown away, they left the loft.’

‘ Jess’, I returned’ Women  are inclined do so; it’s common knowledge, and for your information a female pigeon is referred to with the word hen.’ 

He looked at me uncertain. His sturdy little friend stood a few steps behind him like a silent bodyguard.

‘And  you may call a male pigeon is a cock’. 

He gave his companion an understanding nod as if meant; ’see. I told you he’s nice pigioner. 

‘So, now you are in need for a few hens,’ I went on saying, that’s all right but then you’ll have to be back next Saturday, because at this moment I can’t at random pick out two suitable pigeons.’ 

Satisfied he nodded and again glanced  at his friend.

‘ I am  curious which pigeon owner gave you the two cocks’, I said A certain Mr Han  had generously given them. He also was a nice person and the pigeons  were red coloured. ’Maybe their hens didn’t like that colour,’ his square-built friend thoughtfully suggested.

They left politely bowing like Japanese people who had just invested a lot of money in  my famous pigeons.

 I closed the door. In the living room I examined my  bank-book for the hundredth time and suddenly the money mislaid showed up on the proper spot. The rest of the week went by without disturbing events. My cocks had become wiser. 

They returned to their loft before dark. Towards the end of the week an English red hen that lost its bearings  and had come all the way from Scotland asked shelter. 

On Saturday as was agreed  the little boy and his mate came punctual to the minute with a carton box from the supermarket. I gave them 3 hens and a white cock. The tall boy  pointed at the English red bird and asked if they could take the yellow one with them  as well. But I refused and I explained that she had to fly back to England eventually after recovery. 

With four pigeons in an inconvenient box in which I had pricked holes for ventilation with scissors  they finally left in high spirits on their bikes.  I had made their day.


(dit is een Engelse versie van het verhaal\ Hoog Bezoek' dat  enkele dagen geleden op dit weblog werd geplaatst)
 zwanen-foto R.U.