Junior Birdman

I once described my dad as "Outdoorsman of the Year." "Really? Was he nominated by Hunting and Fishing magazine or something?" my boss asked in amazement. No, John, it's just the most succinct way to explain his fascination with all things creepy, crawly, living and breathing. He photographs the cactus blossoms each spring, sneaks up on owlets and ravens in their nests, and if we are lucky, even brings one home for a pet. (We all have fond memories of a certain black bird named Cobber - "friend" in Australian slang, where my dad served his mission - calling our dog, Spot, in my dad's exact tone of voice, or stealing neighboring construction workers' tools, or pecking at our toes, and chasing us off of the trampoline with a menacing glare.) There is no end to the tales of my dad destinking skunks, or tormenting horny toads to get them to shoot blood out of their eyes, or rescuing baby rabbits abandoned by their mother, or carrying tiny chipmunks around in his shirt pocket. Not quite the animal charmer, Dickon from the Secret Garden was, but close.

So, I guess I shouldn't have been surprised by what happened two weeks ago. My parents and youngest sister had stopped by to drop off a belated Valentine's treat. As they were leaving, they startled a pigeon who had apparently been preparing to bed down next to our front door for the night. (That's what the droppings indicated anyway.) My dad decided to catch the poor thing. "Leave him alone!" my sister and I pled. But off he went, deaf to our cries, and scooped the bird up in one fell swoop.


I have to say, I was amazed at how easily the bird was captured, until my dad pointed out the broken wing.


"Why don't I just put him in here?" my dad said, trying to throw the bird into my living room.

"Uh, I don't think so. You're the nature lover. You should take him home with you and nurse him back to health. Mom's biology class would love to have another pet."

After five minutes of arguing, wrestling, and teasing, the bird was finally laid down under the rosemary bush out front. We had probably scared him to death, but at least he wasn't sleeping under my roof! Oh the joys of being related to a man that has yet to grow up. Here's to you, Junior Birdman - it's always an adventure, but I love you anyway!

"Up in the air Junior Birdman, Up in the air upside down..."