The homing pigeon has proved that locality is a faculty fully developed
in the bird’s little brain, but I heard, the other day, an instance of
memory in the species that was most touching. A lady living in the top
story of a Boston skyscraper had been in the habit of feeding the
pigeons and sparrows who flew to the little balcony before her window,
and had succeeded in taming some of her pensioners, one or two pigeons
even eating out of her hand. One day, while passing along Park street,
this lady was surprised to see a pigeon flutter away from some
companions strutting in the middle of the road, and come upon the
sidewalk, where it almost tripped her up in its efforts to attract her
attention. It fluttered around her, evincing every sign of pleasure and
recognition, and when she called it by name the little creature fairly
flew at her! Now, in the midst of all that passing throng the pigeon
knew its benefactor, who, with tears in her eyes, says its recognition
gave her more joy than if the queen had saluted her. Under the
circumstances, it was to her great regret that she had no crumbs to give
him then and there. But who ever dreamed of being accosted in the street
by a pigeon?
Our attention has been called by a traveling friend to an incident which
occurred recently in the family of G. F. Marsh, a member of the Pacific
Coast Pigeon Society. It certainly proved to him, and to all his friends
in that region, in a most impressive manner the valuable services which
may sometimes be rendered by the carrier pigeon, and probably explains
some of his enthusiasm in that direction. His little baby boy was taken
suddenly sick with most alarming symptoms of diphtheria.
The mother, watching by the bedside of the little one, dispatched a
message tied on a carrier pigeon to her husband at his store on Market
street, San Francisco. In the message she wrote the nature of the
child’s alarming illness, and made an urgent appeal for medicine to save
its life. The bird was started from the home of the family near the
Cliff House, five miles from Mr. Marsh’s store.
The bird flew swiftly to the store, where Mr. Marsh received it. He read
the message, called a doctor, explained the child’s symptoms as his wife
had detailed them in her message, and received the proper medicine. Then
tying the little vial containing the precious restorative to the tail of
the pigeon, he let it go.
The pigeon sped away swiftly through the air straight for the Cliff. It
made the distance, five miles, in ten minutes, a distance which would
have required the doctor three-quarters of an hour to cover.
In twenty minutes from the time the mother’s message was sent to her
husband the baby was taking the medicine.
Naturally enough Mr. Marsh is partial to pigeons, for he considers that
he owes his baby’s life to one.
George Bancroft Griffith.