The White Pigeon

The light from a full moon shined on three boys standing side-by-side in front of a two-story, windowless building. Each of them held a flashlight—its beam directed at a closed door in front of them.

“What’s that smell?” said Carl, the tallest of the three boys. “It smells like rotten eggs.”

“It’s sulfur dioxide,” said Ted, who stood in the middle. “Natural mineral water used to be pumped up from underneath the ground and stored in a large metal container on top of this building. Many years ago, people used to take a bath in it. At least, that’s what my dad told me.”

“Why would anyone want to take a bath in stinking, fart-smelling water?”

“Well, my dad said, people believed the water would cure their illnesses.”

Carl grunted. “Are you sure we’ll find pigeons inside here?”

“Yes,” said Ted, nodding his head. “Over the past month, I’ve seen at least a hundred of them coming and going from here.”

Allen, the third boy, head tilted downward, said with soft tone of voice, “I was with Ted a few times and saw many of them flying in and out of there.”

“Okay, I believe you guys. But let’s get one thing straight, I get half the profit from the sale of the pigeons.”

“That’s what I’d agreed on this afternoon at your house,” said Ted, looking straight at Carl. “You’re the expert in capturing pigeons. Besides, your uncle will buy them from us. It’s only fair, you get half the profit.”

“What do you say, shy boy?” said Carl, glaring at Allen.

“Yeah, I agree,” said Allen, looking down at the ground.

“Okay, take one of these burlap sacks to put the pigeons in. I punched all kinds of holes in it to allow the pigeons to breathe.” Each of them took a sack. “When we go inside, be really quiet. They’ll fly away if you scare them. Understand?”

“We’ll be as quiet as mice in a church,” said Ted. He gently elbowed Allen.

“Yes, as quiet as mice.”

“Well, anyway. You shine your flashlight directly at them. The light will stun them, preventing them from moving. You then just reach out and grab them from behind the neck and put them into the sack.” The two novices nodded.

Ted turned the doorknob and opened the door. The smelly air from inside rushed out. “Breath through your mouth, the smell won’t be as bad.”

“Easy for you to say,” said Carl, pinching his nose.

Once inside, they stopped. Their flashlight’s beam shined throughout the room.

The room was about two hundred feet across and about a hundred feet wide. About ten feet above them was crisscrossing of several two-foot square wooden beams extending the full length and width of the room. Each beam appeared to be about six feet apart from each other.

“I haven’t seen one pigeon, yet,” said Ted. “Maybe I was wrong about them being in here?”

“It’s obvious you’ve never been pigeon hunting before,” said Carl. “Pigeons nest in high places, away from predators. Be quiet and you’ll hear them.” Sure enough, coos echoed from the upper tier of the room.

“It sounds beautiful,” said Allen.

“I wouldn’t call it beautiful,” Carl said firmly. “It’s more like money in our pockets after we sell them to my uncle.”

“How do we get to them?” asked Ted.

“Over there is a ladder attached to the wall.” Carl directed his flashlight on the far wall directly in front of them. “It’ll take us up to where the pigeons are.”

A few minutes later, Carl led them along the first wooden beam. Their feet felt around in the darkness for the solidness of the two-foot wide beam. About ten feet away, Carl’s flashlight shined a pigeon. The pigeon froze, unable to move due to the blinding light. He reached out and grasped the brown and white pigeon, stuffing it into the sack. “See how it’s done? It’s your turn, now. Just follow the beams and do your thing.”

Ted and Allen turned around, shuffling along for several more feet until they came to another beam. “I’ll go to the left, Allen. You go to the right.”

“Okay.”

****

Ted had captured three pigeons in less than twenty minutes. In front of him was another pigeon nesting on a beam. “That’s strange,” he whispered. A pure white pigeon stared up at him. Its eyes were blinking, not frozen with fright like the other pigeons. It jerked its head to the right, sprang up onto its legs, and quickly flew away.

A moment later, the cracking sound of wood echoed throughout the room, followed by a crashing sound of wood striking a concrete floor. The sound came from the direction of Allen.

“Allen! Are you okay?” Ted waited for an answer. None came. Only the flapping sound of wings echoed from the darkness. In Ted’s mind, he saw his best friend lying on the floor, unconscious—or dead.

“What was that?” Carl shouted from the far end of the room.

“I think Allen has fallen after stepping on a rotted beam.”

“Our butts are in trouble now. We better get down from here and see where his body is. I’ll meet you at the ladder.”

A few minutes later, Ted shuffled his way back to the ladder, grabbing onto it. “I should’ve never brought Allen here. It’s my fault that he fell.”

A horizontal beam of light shined on the ladder. It wasn’t coming from either of their flashlights. They both turned and directed their flashlights toward the light source. It was Allen! His face projected a broad smile, extending from ear to ear.

“I’ll be, he’s not dead,” said Carl.

“I thought you’d fallen to your death,” said Ted.

Allen shrugged his shoulders, acknowledging that he was alive and well.

“We better get down from here,” said Carl, “before another beam decides to give away.” They slowly moved down the ladder, each of them holding onto their sack of pigeons.

A few moments later, their flashlights lit up the area where the wooden beam had crashed to the floor. A splintered beam, about six feet long, contained an inch-deep shoe imprint into its wood. Carl said, “Is that your foot impression?”

“Yep, that’s where my shoe went into the wood beam.”

“It’s amazing you didn’t fall with that rotten beam,” Ted said, shaking his head back and forth.

“I think it was a miracle,” said Allen seriously.

“What do you mean by that?” asked Ted.

“I was just starting to walk on this beam when suddenly my right foot sank down into it. It felt like I stepped on a sponge. I was about to take another step when from out of nowhere this white pigeon landed on the beam in front of me. It looked up at me, spread its wings and began walking toward me. It scared me. I backed up a few steps. Right at that moment the beam in front of me began to crack. A few seconds later it gave way and fell to the floor.”

“Do you expect us to believe this story?” Carl asked. “You’ve lost touch with reality. I’ve been around pigeons most of my life. There ain’t no way a pigeon would do that.”

“You believe what you want. I know what I saw.” Allen took a step toward Carl, causing him to take a step backward. “Nothing you say is going to change my mind.”

Ted chuckled to himself. His best friend seemed capable of handling his own arguments, now.

The three of them left the building and stood outside.

“Well, let’s add up how many pigeons we captured,” said Carl. “I got five. How many do you have Ted?”

Ted laid his burlap sack on the ground, grabbed the bottom of it and slowly lifted upward. The pigeons flew out. “I don’t have any.”

“What are you doing? That’s money flying away.” While he had been shouting at Ted, Allen had done the same thing. “You two guys are crazy. I’m keeping mine and selling them to my uncle.”

Allen said, “You do what you have to do, pigeon-boy.”

Carl grunted something under his breath and stomped away into the darkness.

“We could’ve used the money,” said Ted. “But the thought of taking the pigeons away from their home seemed cruel to me.”

“I agree. Especially…when one of them saved my life.”

On top of the building, looking down at Ted and Allen, a white pigeon appeared to be nodding its head. Of course, that would be impossible.