Puff's Story

Guest Post by Stacy Martin

On Tuesday May 17th, I came into work in the morning - I work at the Exploratorium, in one of the old army barrack buildings at the entrance to Crissy Field - and it being a cold, grey and rainy morning - the greenery was extra brilliant around my office. So much so, that it was pretty easy to notice that the park across the street had several white birds marching about on the grass. I had never seen them before, and Crissy Fieldis a birder's epicenter - with plenty of crows, plovers and killdeer, gulls of all kinds, starlings and black birds always hanging about daily on the Crissy Field grass. I took a walk over to the cafe in Crissy Field and passed by this one white bird, which was small enough for me to think it was a white dove. It was standing under a tree, and I could tell by the ground around it that it had been there for awhile. There were feathers on the ground like it had been nesting or just standing there probably for a couple of days. I walked towards it and asked "are you okay"? The bird walked away but didn't fly, and circled back to stand in it's spot under the tree. I was instantly worried for it - but I went back to work. I kept thinking about it, and from the window I could see it still under that tree. So I sent out an email to one of my co-workers, Walter Kintundu, an artist whose work is about wild birds and music. He told me that there had been a high school graduation at the Palace of Fine arts that past weekend, which included a "dove release." Unfortunately, he'd seen about a dozen left over white pigeons or doves hanging out in Crissy Field since, just being picked off easily by the local hawks - like marshmallows. I asked him if we should call a local bird rescue. He told me that I had two choices - either let nature take itscourse and leave the bird to be eaten by one of the predators, since it was domestic and a wildlife sanctuary would not take it in. Or, I could round it up myself and try and foster it.

It had been about 3 hours since I had walked by the bird and I could not stop thinking about it. I borrowed a cardboard banker's box from a co-worker and went outside to get the bird. It had wandered into the children's enclosed garden area behind the cafe, and it was out in plain sight for any hawk flying by to see. The bird could only get lift off the ground of about 2 or 3 feet when I tried to grab it. Eventually I corralled it and put it in the box. The box was under my desk for the remaining 3 hours of my workday, and I put a bowl of water and some of my peas from lunch in there. No one at work knew the bird was there, she was quiet and just slept on my sweater, which I had also put in the box. At the end of the day - I carried the box to the bus, and rode home, stopping at Petco to pick up a temporary cage and some food. I called my mother, who has had pet doves and she advised me on what to get to feed awhite dove.

I have two cats, so the bird was kept in my bedroom during the day, and in the kitchen at night - with the cats separated by closed doors. They knew something was up, and hung out by the closed door. I made a nest of shredded paper for the bird and got her set up with food and water. She had this heavy breathing, like a choo choo train, and it was non-stop, so the poor thing was not getting any sleep. I knew I was not going to have much success on my own trying to help her, so I did a hunt online and found Mickaboo. I emailed them and got a response from Elizabeth Young, who very kindly offered to come over when I got home from work, to get me medications and show me how to care for the bird.

When Elizabeth arrived, wearing this tee-shirt featuring a picture of a pair of partnered pigeons, I thought she was great right away. She brought a big dog carrier for the bird, since the cage I got at Petco was way too small. Elizabeth took one look at the bird and told me that we had a baby King pigeon - very underweight and pretty sick - on our hands (and no avian vet available).

She showed me how to give it the pills she brought, and how to hand feed it and to hold it without constricting it. She also thought with the heavy wheezing sound, there could either be a respiratory infection or canker in its lungs. The bird had a 50/50 chance of making it she estimated. Elizabeth asked me what I would name it, and I thought either Marshallow or Puff - and since there are StayPuft marshmallows - and with the puffing sound the poor bird was making non-stop, I figured Puff was a good temporary name.

I put a mirror in her dog carrier, and with the heating pad Elizabeth loaned me, Puff was clearly much more comfortable. Over the next couple of days, with the meds and hand feeding, her breathing became much less labored and when I took her out twice a day to give her wings a stretch, and so I could clean her up (she had serious diarrhea) and change her bedding - she would march around and peck at the floor. She even made an attempt to clean herself. By Saturday, she was getting up to drink water and toss her food around without prompting. I really thought she was rallying. Elizabeth kept in constant contact with me, checking into find out what Puff's symptoms and status were.

Then came Sunday night. I was up late filing a freelance story and Puff was in her carrier next to me. Her breathing started to become wheezing and labored again. I held her in my lap and she actually felt lighter and weaker then she had all week. I had a terrible feeling she was not going to make it, the complete opposite of what I had felt the day before.

When I got up Monday morning, she was dead in her carrier - her wings stretched out and her head laying to one side with her eyes closed. That scene really broke my heart. I had really hoped she would make it, I had even sang to and talked to her every day, all the way up until Sunday night, telling her that she should get better so she could go be with pigeon friends and have pals to fly around with. She was pretty happy when I talked to her softly, and really happy when she was facing the mirror while she was resting in her towel nest.

Elizabeth suggested I take her to SFACC for a necropsy. Since they are only open from 11 am to 6 p.m., I decided to store Puff in the freezer so she wouldn't decompose. However, I learned later that you should never do this, as it can kill off any fungal evidence, and make getting tissue samples more difficult. Dr. Bing, who did the necropsy left me a voicemail message. She said that Puff had been severely dehydrated, probably from the diarrhea, and way underfed. She did not find canker, but could not verify the lung infection. Based on my description of Puff's labored breathing, and nothing stuck in her crop - she thinks that the combination of starvation, dehydration and possibly lung infection were too far along, even with the antibiotics and hand feeding. Basically, after standing for 2 or 3 days under that tree in the park, in the cold rain on the ground, not knowing how and what to eat or drink, I think she caught some kind of chest cold. However, I also think that even though I was not able to save her, she at least spent her last week without fear or being harmed. I gave her companionship and a clean,warm place to rest. She could hear the birds chirping outside my bedroom window, and she got fresh breezes blowing in to her. Even though I did not have her long enough to bond, I really missed her after she died.

Now comes the serendipity of this story. When I contacted Mickaboo/MickaCoo - I was not aware that Elizabeth had had a prior arrangement to come to the Exploratorium and do a presentation on pigeon intelligence. As a matter of fact, that presentation took place a week after Elizabeth and I first met. So I really think that I was supposed to have this experience with Puff, or with the pigeons that Elizabeth brought to meet the staff at the Exploratorium. I have never had a prejudice against feral pigeons - as a matter of fact I have always liked pigeons, and I am a lover of all kinds of animal and insect life. So I don't think this was a simple as a lesson in learning to see these birds in another light. What I think happened was something kind of karmic, and strangely spiritual - and that I will probably foster a pigeon again because of it.

MickaCoo Pigeon & Dove Rescue at the Exploratorium!

~Stacy Martin