THE MEANEST CAT IN VENICE
It is hard to imagine a more forlorn experience in the life of a young bird
than to be suddenly pushed from the nest and find himself alone on a hard
pavement. It is bad enough when it happens as the result of premeditation
on the part of an unfeeling parent who has made up his mind that his
offspring are quite able to shift for themselves, but, when it occurs from
accident, it is nothing short of tragic.
Poor Chico, this was what had happened to him, and he had huddled,
shivering, close to the column of St. Theodore and tried in vain to reason
everything out in his pigeon mind. Many things had happened of late that he
had not been able to understand. His mother, hitherto most attentive to his
sister and himself, had suddenly ceased feeding them with the nice soft
food they loved so well, at the same time refusing to cuddle them under her
warm breast.
He remembered vaguely hearing her impatiently coo to his father, that _he_
would have to look out for the fledglings, her duty was to the eggs. At the
time he hadn't understood what she meant by eggs, although once or twice he
had caught a glimpse of two white oval things under her breast which she
seemed to be dreadfully proud of.
It wouldn't have been so bad if his father had been as affectionate as
usual, but, on the contrary, he had treated his sister and himself as if
they were in the way, and it was easy to see Father Pigeon would have
greatly preferred crowding on the nest with his mate to getting food for
two greedy fledglings.
In fact, that was how the accident had happened. Chico had been so
unfortunate as to get in the way, with the result that he had been pushed
out and had fallen to the ground.
Poor little naked fledgling, he had shivered and huddled close to the
friendly column, for, even in summer, the breeze from the Adriatic often
blows fresh and cool.
He had just begun to wonder how he should get anything to eat, when
suddenly a shadow had come over him, causing him to crouch low in even,
greater terror, while his heart thumped horribly, but before he could utter
a sound he had been seized by a big warm hand, and a voice that was not
unkindly had exclaimed:
"Did the little pigeon fall from the nest?"
In the warm comfort of Paolo's hand the bird had forgotten his fear, and
his little heart had ceased to thump as he reflected this must be a human,
and his mother had always taught him that "humans" were kind to birds in
St. Mark's Square. So, with a feeling akin to confidence, he had allowed
himself to be carried somewhere he did not know, and deposited In what he
supposed was meant for a nest, although it was not bit like the nice, soft
one to which he had accustomed.
He had even managed to eat a crumb or two, and, in spite of the fact that
he was very lonely without his sister to keep him company, he had finally
succeeded in going to sleep.
In the morning the big hand had grasped him again and had shown him to two
long-legged creatures who he had guessed were human children, because they
looked much as his mother had described them in one of her favorite lullaby
coos. He had not been afraid of them, but, flattered by their delighted
exclamations, had eaten everything they had offered him.
By the time the second night had come, Chico had so far become accustomed
to his strange surroundings that he slept almost as well as if he had been
under his mother's wings.
He was still dreaming when he heard a voice call, "Chico, Chico--are you
still there, Chico?"
He roused instantly, reminded of his friends who had given him his
breakfast the morning before.
He raised his head. There was a sound of other little feet climbing upon
the dry-goods box, and a softer voice called, "Chico, Chico!"
Still he made no movement, listening while the children speculated as to
whether or not their pet had been spirited away during the night.
"Chico! Chico!" There was something so pleading in the boy's voice that the
baby pigeon thrust his open bill out of the window on the ledge.
"He's here, he's here!" Andrea shouted, almost losing his balance in his
excitement, but he saved himself in time to put a bit of cracked wheat into
the wide-open mouth. It was greedily swallowed and the open bill demanded
more. This performance was repeated until the boy's supply was exhausted.
Then the bill was withdrawn, and Chico disappeared from view. But between
the boy and the bird had been established a bond that would never be
broken. From that time on, Chico was his pigeon in every sense of the word,
and, at Andrea's first call, the greedy bill would immediately appear.
So it went on, until one bright morning, when the children turned the
corner of the church, they found Chico, perched on the window ledge, faking
a sun-bath and waiting for his friends.
My! what excitement there was! Andrea could scarcely wait to climb up on
the box, and was delighted when Chico cocked his head on one side and
actually permitted his caresses.
"Bambino!" murmured Maria; "dear little baby bird. Oh, see! he's actually
getting feathers!"
It was true, the soft down with which he was covered in some places was
beginning to give way to the first pin feathers, his bill did not seem
so awkwardly large, and the soft, shapeless body already showed signs of
developing future grace.
After this Chico was always waiting for the children, and would cock his
head on one side when he saw them coming, uttering little squeaky noises
that did not sound in the least like cooing. All the time his feathers were
growing and his wings becoming stronger.
Then came a day when Paolo declared that Chico must have his first lesson
in flying, and the children watched, with abated breath, as the old man
took the bird from his nest and placed him on the pavement, at the same
time stationing himself at a little distance and holding an enticing
morsel. At first the baby pigeon flopped aimlessly about when, suddenly,
Maria caught Andrea's arm, whispering excitedly, "He's going to do it, oh,
he's going to do it!" and, miracle of miracles! after awkwardly raising
one wing and then another, he actually mastered the first lesson and, in
consequence, was treated to a royal breakfast. It was a great exertion,
and, after satisfying his hunger, he then and there closed his weary eyes
and took a nap on the pavement, much to Paolo's amusement.
"Well," he exclaimed, "it's the first time I ever taught a bird to fly. One
never knows what one can do until one tries."
After that not a day passed that Chico did not make short flights, to
Andrea from Maria, and from her to the old man's shoulder, until, one
morning, he greatly amazed them by flying into his own window box.
Gaining confidence, Chico must have had it in his pigeon mind one morning
to fly from his nest and greet his friends upon the pavement. But alas, he
miscalculated his strength, even as human beings often do, and while he
spread his wings most boldly, he lost his balance and fell ignominiously to
the ground. That would not of itself have been so bad, for, like children
learning to walk, baby pigeons must have many a disaster before the art of
flying is completely mastered, but, by some strange chance, it happened
that a lean tortoise-shell kitten was prowling about one of the side
streets and at that moment poked her head into St. Mark's Square. Now, in
Venice, there are very few cats--in fact, because of the esteem in which
pigeons are held, they are not popular pets. More than that, they are
positively prohibited from St. Mark's Square, as any well-trained feline
should know.
Where this cat came from, and to whom she belonged, ever remained a
mystery, but as she curiously poked her head into the forbidden precinct
she caught sight of Chico, lying stunned and helpless from his fall. Here
was her chance. Straightway flinging caution to the winds, with a quick
spring she landed full upon the trembling bird, at the same time seizing
him with her paws and burying her cruel teeth in his tender flesh.
What would have been the result I shudder to reflect, had not Andrea at
that moment appeared upon the scene. With a scream of terror he rushed
forward, clapping his hands and making such an outcry that the kitten,
frightened, dropped her prey and disappeared down the side street from
which she had ventured.
When Paolo arrived on the scene a few moments later he found Andrea,
well-nigh distracted, hugging his wounded pet to his breast, and whispering
over and over again:
"Chico, Chico, you mustn't die--you mustn't die!"
It took Paolo but a few moments to assure himself that Chico was not
seriously hurt, although he bore the scar made by the cruel claws for many
a day, and it was weeks before he dared again to try the flight from his
nest to the pavement.
As for the cat, although the old caretaker sallied forth vowing vengeance,
she was never again seen.
Soon it was time for the children to go to school in the old building
situated some distance from St. Mark's, not far from the Rialto.
There was now only time in the morning for a brief visit with Chico before
lessons began, and a hurried half-hour with him at luncheon. Hence the
moments after four o'clock and the full holiday on Saturday were most
precious, and on those occasions no one was happier than Chico, flying from
one to another, and usually ending by perching coquettishly on Andrea's
shoulder.
"There isn't a pigeon in Venice to compare with him," remarked Andrea,
lovingly touching the daintily arched bill, and looking into the clear
eyes. "Tell me, Paolo, did you ever see so fine a bird?"
In answer the old man thoughtfully stretched out the well-shaped wings,
saying, as the colors shone iridescent green and blue in the sunshine:
"They're as beautiful as any wings I ever saw, and better than that,
they're strong. Wings like that can carry a pigeon any distance. Yes," he
continued, more to himself than to the children, "if he's to be a homer, it
seems to me it's full time to begin his training."
Andrea started in an ecstasy of delight.
"Do you mean it, Paolo? Do you really mean it?"
The old man nodded. "Yes, and if you have no objections, we'll give him the
first lesson next Saturday morning."
As if surmising that he was the subject of discussion, Chico flew back to
Andrea's shoulder, where he coo-ooed blissfully, while Paolo unfolded to
his eager listeners the details as he had planned them.