Feral Pigeon Chicks

Tsitsi is aware of the new cycle of life on her window sill because she wakes up to the sounds of wings that land to delightful squeals of anticipation. Most mornings Tsitsi is aware of the early morning ritual outside her window, and she lets them be. This morning, however, she is annoyed with them. Tsitsi remembers that when she reversed her car out of the driveway yesterday, she looked back and saw two chicks sitting in the middle of the spot where her car had been. After recovering from a small heart attack, Tsitsi realized that they are too young and are therefore unable to fly back to the safety of the window sill.
Strong mother instincts are required to love feral pigeon chicks, probably because only a good mother can see the potential of the naked pink body that shows the red veins underneath. The legs are clumsy and the wings have no feathers, except for the blue beginnings of the shafts that will eventually float the bird into the air. The two halves of the beak are almost permanently open in a squeal for food which is a trigger for the caregivers to gather nourishment all day.
The art of flying is learned by trial and error on the chick’s part and great anxiety on the part of the caregivers who sit on the roof and watch. They know that other eyes are watching too.
Tsitsi has a busy day ahead of her and leaves the house, dressed in one of her nicer and therefore less comfortable outfits with high heels. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees that the chicks hide behind the front wheel of her car. She waves her handbag at them in frustration, and to her astonishment they move away from the car. She drives off into her day.
The next day she remembers about the chicks as she walks to her car. She peers underneath. They sit there as though they were in their nest. They make no attempt to move away. In the end, Tsitsi persuades them with a broom to rather hide underneath a shrub in the garden. She can almost feel the sigh of relief from the roof from where the other pigeons have a good view of the spectacle.
That afternoon Tsitsi watches as the parents feed the chicks. They do not attempt to fly at all. Suddenly the parents fly off and the two small ones huddle together. Tsitsi is the last one to notice one of her cats wander onto the scene. Tsitsi holds her breath. The cat strolls past, ignoring the easy catch.
Tsitsi has to admit that the workings of nature are a mystery to her. She tried to do her human best for the chicks by putting them back onto the window sill a few times, only to find them on the ground again the next morning. And then the cats’ behavior also baffles her. They walk straight past the chicks with not a sign of their usual inquisitiveness.
The chicks grow each day. Their feathers grow quickly and within a few days they can fly almost onto the roof. Tsitsi is as pleased as though they were her own offspring flapping their wings to fly off into their future.
A day later Tsitsi returns home to disaster. In the passage, where the cat catches are displayed for approval, she finds the two feral pigeon chicks. Her heart cracks open.
Tsitsi remembers another time, a time in her own fledgling years when she was about ten years old; a time when she was on the brink of testing her wings in the world; a time when small children are nourished, cherished and held safe.
Circumstances necessitated that she start boarding school in Standard 2. Her father would drive her to town early every Monday morning in time for school and the beginning of her school week. In her suitcase would be the freshly washed and ironed clothes for the week. He would see her to the door of the hostel, and give her two shillings, enough for the outing on Wednesday afternoon, the highlight of her week. The other highlight was that he would be there on Friday afternoon to take her home for the weekend. Always.
Tsitsi remembers the matron of the boarding school as a large dark shadow with no facial features whose name she can not remember. She upheld discipline. She walked, talked and breathed authority. Eating and sleeping was at fixed times, whether you were hungry or tired or not. Rules were rules. There was no choice.
All the standard 2 inmates of the hostel had to take a bath on Thursday night, their only bath of the week. Tsitsi had to stand in the queue, naked with her clean towel in her one hand, prescribed sleepware in the other. The small girls were not allowed to cover themselves with their towels. In winter it was cold. It was only later that Tsitsi became smart enough to scurry for the front of this queue, as close as possible to the favorite.
Matron would blow a whistle and allocate a bath to the next two girls in the queue. The others had to wait in line for their turn, which sometimes felt like for ever to Tsitsi. You had three minutes to bath. The whistle would blow again, and you had to get out and dry yourself, fast, before the next whistle. Then it was the turn of the next two girls, in the same water. Tsitsi frowns as she remembers and wonders if that could be the reason why she so much relished taking her time in the bath, even adding hot water when it cooled too much.
Matron slept in the dormitory. Her bed was by the door. Tsitsi had a bed second from the corner. If she made the slightest movement, the hard mattress would complain, and matron would threaten with a hiding to whoever was making such a noise. Tsistsi got used to sleeping in one position the whole night.
Tsitsi learned not to cough even though she had to when she had a cold, because that was also considered a disturbance. Tsitsi learned to be invisible, to follow all the rules as closely as she could so that she could be a good girl. She never questioned anything, because she learned with a hiding not to.
Tsitsi stares out of her window, at the spot where she last saw the feral pigeon chicks. A desire to howl fills her. She ignores it.
A cold hand moves over Tsitsi’s body as she finds the cause of her invisibility. She sits at the window for such a long time that a passer by could be forgiven for not seeing her there.
Then she howls, so loud that she would make a wild wolf proud.