Tale guide

The pigeon - a true story

Jonathan and Jennifer Jones had been married only two years when Jonathan was promoted to junior trade councilor and posted to the South African High Commission, Whitehall, London.

It had been their first foreign assignment in recognition of his two years of exemplary service in South Africa’s department of Foreign Affairs and the past eighteen months of moving in diplomatic circles in one of the world’s finest cities was proving to be an amazing experience.

Jonathan enjoyed the English formality and way of life. He was comfortable in his pinstriped suit, bowler hat and umbrella.

He had become accustomed to taking his lunch box that his caring wife lovingly prepared for him every day, to the park during his lunch break, together with a copy of the daily Times.

He would find a solitary bench under a shady tree and catch up on the stories of the day while enjoying his sandwiches and sipping a cup of tea.

His wasn’t unusual behaviour in London town in the eighties and he was quite at home amongst many business and public sector staff who similarly sought the warm sunshine of the summer months in many of London’s famous parks accompanied by a host of pigeons who equally took advantage of the scraps they would share.

On one such lunch break in the midst of summer, Jonathan sat quietly in his favourite spot, reading the news and munching on a corned beef sandwich when he heard someone greet him.

He lowered his paper and looked around but there was no one close enough to attract his attention.

Shrugging his shoulders, he returned to his reading.

“I say, old chap”, came the voice, “how are you?”

Jonathan dropped his newspaper to his lap and looked up once again and once again he saw no one.

Puzzled at the encounter, Jonathan looked over his shoulders and all around until his eyes finally fell upon a pigeon standing close by looking at him.

“Couldn’t be”, Jonathan thought incredulously. “Could it?”

Raising his newspaper once again so as not to attract the attention of any inadvertent observer, Jonathan looked at the pigeon and quietly and self-consciously asked “Were you talking to me?

To his utter amazement, the pigeon responded, “Of course dear boy, who else?”

Of all the things that could have ever happened, this was the most freakish and it took Jonathan some time to overcome his disbelief and his real concern that someone would see him talking to a pigeon.

Not to mention the growing doubt that he could be losing his mind and that this event was some kind of figment of an over-stressed imagination.

But the pigeon persisted and eventually the two became involved in an interesting conversion on a number of issues of the day.

Before he knew it, the lunch break was over, and Jonathan had to get back to the embassy.

“My wife is simply never going to believe that we met and had a conversation” said Jonathan. “Would you consider coming over to our apartment this evening for dinner?” he enquired.

“It would be an absolute pleasure,” replied the pigeon before they went about their respective ways.

As one can imagine, the encounter occupied Jonathan’s thoughts for the rest of the afternoon but he kept it very secret from his colleagues for reasons that he had serious doubts about his state of mind as much as he feared the consequences of outright ridicule.

Still very much troubled, Jonathan made his way home.

“You will never believe what happened to me” he announced to his wife as he hung up is coat and hat in the entrance hall and proceeded to tell all.

As the story unfolded Jennifer started to laugh and then as it became evident that her husband was being serious, her shock and amazement turned to anxious trepidation as the prospect of him having developed some kind of psychological affliction crossed her mind.

She decided to humour her husband in the interests of keeping him calm and reasonable before she could work out how best go about finding help.

“What time are you expecting him for dinner?” she finally asked.

“We arranged for 7 o’clock” Jonathan replied confidently.

“What on earth must I feed him?” asked Jennifer.

“I don’t know” he said, “do you have any birdseed perhaps?”

The time seemed to drag by exceedingly slowly as they waited for seven o’clock.

The clock struck the hour and the time past.

Jennifer had become increasing concerned and as the minutes ticked away, she wondered how they were ever going to get through this.

“Don’t you want to rather sit up” she encouraged compassionately. “You must be hungry after such a tiring day”.

“He will be here” said Jonathan, with a hint of irritation. “He won’t let me down. He must come!”

Even he was becoming more and more agitated.

Five past seven came and went – nothing. Ten past seven came and went – nothing. Just as the two of them were reaching the obvious conclusion that that there was never going to be a pigeon coming to dinner, there was a sharp knock on the front door.

Jonathan rushed to open the door and there before him on the step stood the pigeon.

“I’m terribly sorry I’m late” said the pigeon, “it was such a glorious evening I decided to walk”.

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