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I'm sitting in the kitchen watching out to the back garden when I see them for the first time. Well, technically the cat seems them first, but I see them too. Two pigeons, poking around, strutting through the tall grass. The garden is properly green now, I've lived here for a few months and it's late spring. I've seen birds in the back before—sparrows and starlings—but these stand out to me because one is a strange color, pale, with red on its neck and wings. I would almost wonder if it was not a pigeon, if not for the one beside it which is undoubtedly a pigeon. The most regular looking pigeon you've ever seen. I'm emailing Oxford now with a photo so they can update the dictionary.
They seem to be together too, moving in circles around each other as they meander, as if they are their own gravitational system. We watch, me and the cat, through the patio door. Me absently, her intently. I watch the path they leave through the dewy grass, their heads bobbing down and short bursts of running, exploring my tiny world. Eventually they fly off, I stay here and my day continues.
***
I don't notice them again until two days later; it's the cat again that alerts me, chattering at the door. I'm washing dishes at the sink this time as I watch. They seem calmer here in my yard than what I think of as pigeon behavior; I always see them in the middle of city downtowns, dodging pedestrians who can't be bothered to dodge them. This is probably incredibly tranquil in comparison. Why is it they bother with city centers at all? I suppose for the food. What are pigeons supposed to eat anyway? I know they could eat anything, chips and popcorn and Indian takeaway, but surely that's not what's best for them.
I pull out my phone. Seeds evidently, that makes sense. While I'm at it I Google "pigeon colors." The pale one is apparently a red-bar, and there's more variations of "regular" pigeon than I thought. I move closer to the window, squinting out at them as I compare to my phone. Checkered, I think, is the other, with white speckling at the edge of his wings.
Maybe I should get some bird seed. Even if these guys aren't back the other birds can enjoy, and it's cheap entertainment for the cat to have birds out the window.
The pigeons are back the next day, so I'm glad I got the food right away. It was shockingly cheap, bird seed. Came in a much bigger bag than I thought I would need, but it's fine, I can make room. I just put some seed out on an old plastic dish, figuring as I usually see pigeons eating from the ground they likely didn't need a feeder.
The boys—yes, I've decided they're boys—are on the food in an instant. Good. Good that they know now, there are nutrients and peace here; I'd like to keep them coming back, I'm fond of them already.
***
They become a regular feature, the boys, nearly ever day through the summer. I've named them now, it seems silly not to have a name for these creatures in my life: Dan for the speckled, Phil for the red-bar. And I'm certain it's always the same two. It's easier to tell with Phil, because of his coloration, but the way that they behave together, the way they know each other, the other must also always be Dan. They're together, mates, I'm sure. The boyfriends in my garden.
Their routine is always the same, swoop down, go straight for the food dish. Make a proper mess of it, spilling as much seed on the patio as they eat, but the other birds clean that up later. Then they preen. Settled together on the edge of the patio, right where it turns from pavers to grass, they sit together and pick at themselves and the other. Dan seems to do most of the work here, to be honest, he's working at it long after Phil loses interest. They'll rest, and then they'll play. Just running, and flapping, same as that first day, orbiting each other. They're silly, honestly, I didn't know pigeons did play, but this can't be anything else.
Sometimes after that they'll rest again, sometimes after that they'll fly away. I've started working from the kitchen table until they've come and gone for the day, just to make sure I get to see them each day.
***
It's the end of August when I start to not see Dan every day. It's shocking the first day, I almost second guess if it's Phil, but it definitely is, I've seen him enough now I think I would recognize him anywhere. Same routine too: eat, preen, rest. He doesn't play without Dan, there's no one to play with. Dan is back the next day, and then gone the day after that. On days where Dan is here Phil seems more lively, even in the eating and preening. Happy to have his boyfriend. It continues like that all through September, a few days here, a few days gone.
Do pigeons get sick? Is he ill and too tired to come some days? I'm not sure, but the days he is here he seems completely normal, so I'm not too worried. Surely if he was ill or injured I'd be able to see it.
I'm not worried about it until he doesn't come back at all.
***
I wish I had kept a calendar. I know it's been days since I've seen Dan, but I don't know how many days. I don't know if this is the longest it's been. Then eventually, I'm sure this is the longest stretch without him. It's cold now, October. Do pigeons migrate? Why would Dan migrate without Phil? I look it up, they don't migrate. It doesn't make me feel better.
Phil seems okay. He's healthy, he's eating same as always, maybe more. He's just… more still, more slow. I'm worried for him.
***
One day I come out, about two weeks after Dan's been gone, and there's another pigeon with Phil in the garden. In all the time the boys have been coming I've never seen them bring another pigeon. They eat, they play, they leave. The next day Phil is alone again.
What do you do, if you're a pigeon, and your mate is gone? Do you live the rest of your life alone? Do you get a new mate, is this pigeon dating? I'm worried sick about this, it's ridiculous. Six months ago it wouldn't have crossed my mind to care about pigeon mating behavior.
It happens twice again after that, one day with a new bird, but the new birds never come back.
The days get colder and shorter. I'm sad when I think of Dan, but I'm sadder to think of Phil. To be left, in this cold, just an angry cat stuck behind a window to keep you company. I am glad that Phil keeps coming, it's nice to know he still likes this place, and I'm happy to have him here still at least, and to know he is well and fed.
***
One day, early December, Dan is back. I feel like I've seen a ghost, I nearly drop my coffee to the floor. I walk all the way up to the window, smushing my forehead in the cold glass, looking through until my breath fogs it up so much I can't see anything.
That is definitely Dan, the speckles, the way his back tail feathers lean slightly to his left. Dan is back. They're huddled together, puffed against the cold, both with their eyes shut, just leaning in. I have tears in my eyes, ridiculous. Ridiculous to cry over a pigeon boyfriend reunion, but here I am, in my pajamas in the kitchen, crying.
Dan is there every single day through December, they seem just the same as they ever were. A bit more cuddly, perhaps but I'm not sure if I've remembered wrong, or if it's a change from the cold, or anything else. On Christmas I Google "pigeon treats," and so the boys get a side of peas with their seeds. They love it, Phil especially, scattering them all over the frozen ground.
In the New Year Dan leaves again,but I'm not worried this time. I believe he'll be back. And he is, he's never gone as long as that again, day or weeks but not months, and every time Phil welcomes him back and the world feels right again.