|Colin (wearing the rings) and Coline in post coital pose|
Anyone who read my recent post about the lost racing pigeon must be wondering what has happened since. The first thing is that I named the pigeon Colin because French for a dove is une colombe. I am sure that Colin is English because he’s got that kind of sandals and socks Brit abroad look about him.
Fellow bird lovers – I have great news. Colin has found Coline, a young local pigeon who was born here last year. Today, I spotted them shagging on a 15th century rafter in my barn. My guess is that pigeons have bobbed, cooed and spread their feathers in a mating flap on that beam since the time of “Green Gallant” king of France Henry IV.
|A bird called Colin|
At first it was just regular cooing but you get to know the sounds of love when you hang about in old French barns. So, I climbed up with my camera to be certain that it was indeed Colin. In the end I managed to get a shot of his rings, which of course, are not worn by local peasants. It looks to me as if he’s gonna see out his mortal span in Saint Savinien. And I sure don’t blame him! Somewhere in’t north of England, a pigeon fancier is scanning the darkening dusk willing his bird to clock in. Colin shrugs and shags.
Now, I am a francofilly if ever there was one. All the same, I’m not sure that they always drive as safely and wisely as possible….need I say more? A couple of days ago I was on my bike in a nearby town and spotted the driver of a car about to pull off. It’s all done by smell…..
Emma thinx: When you get tired of flying – wing it.