From my bedroom window I saw two pigeons resting on the fence, breast feathers fluffed up. I took a photo before they flew away and knew I would paint a pigeon one day. Here it is.
Outside my bedroom window I can see Hartshead Pike. I decided to put this in the painting.
A few years ago I was down Manchester with my mum. We passed up through Piccadilly Gardens on the way back to the car when we passed a small pigeon on the steps of a hotel. It seemed to be injured and was sitting still. The bits of Kitkat and ice cream cones people had thrown down for it showed it had been there a while. It didn’t seem to want to move. In the boot of the car I found a box so I walked back to pick up the pigeon.
For the next few days we tended to it hoping it may fly and it seemed to get used to us. It saw in a box on a towel looking out on the garden. I would dash up and down to the toilet extra fast should a cat be circling it with the hope of a quick dinner. More seemed to come out of it than went in its beak and those towels smelt like a pole cat. One Sunday we took it to a bird sanctuary in Rochdale and I donated £10 to a man who said the pigeon had probably hit a bus or telephone cable on its first flight. There was a broad host of birds with a broad range of injuries. Every few days they slid off the roof and if any birds able to fly escaped to the skies. I rang them a week after but the pigeon had died.
Sometimes a pigeon has fallen down the chimney in the back lounge. A puff of soot can be seen around the fire so we’ve pulled out the fire and there’s be a pigeon with an unassuming look tramping around the small void. We have to open the patio and conservatory doors and they find their way out though this last one seemed reluctant to go (see photo.) It sat happily watching my dad read the newspaper.
The pigeon which came down the chimney….
On a walk round Hollingworth Lake I saw this pigeon presumably sitting on eggs…