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9 – Purebred PIGEON

U

p until my wife and I had a child of our own, I could not understand the appeal of having kids,

let alone looking at baby pictures of someone else’s kid. Sorry, no interest. And, all that screaming and

crying when you’re in a restaurant or at the movies… No thanks!

Somehow, once I too became a parent, those feelings of repulsion at the sight and sound of other

people’s kids instantly transformed into tolerance and understanding, and even a touch of joy.

I think the same can be said about baby pigeons – once you go through the process of raising

some, your capacity for loving them transforms and increases.

As such, my favorite time of the year is the breeding season when the baby pigeons are hatching

and growing into young birds. I suspect this is true for most of us. There’s something very special – intrin-

sically comforting and spiritually rejuvenating - about witnessing the birth of new life and helping sustain it.

Like any good parent, I like to take photos of my baby pigeons, so as to both capture that memory

for my scrapbook (which today is now a file on my computer) and to have something to show friends, via

e-mails and Facebook. Pictured here are babies from John DeCarlo Jr.’s lofts and my loft.

I can still remember the thrill the first time I saw eggs appear under the pairs of Pensom rollers

I had bought as a seven-year-old boy many years ago. The parents looked like porcelain art pieces,

so pristine and clean, sitting perfectly still in their rustic nest boxes - old wooden milk crates with rusty

steel corners that I had found behind our local grocery store (the Mayfair Market in Malibu). They each