LITMIR.BIZ

      The house was owned by an old couple named Dullard who hated all birds but especially pigeons. Dirty creatures, they called them, and if they could have reached the nest they would have torn it down. They stared up at it in hate and the man actually threw a stone at Bill when he saw him turning round to show off. But the stone hit the roof, bounced back and struck Mr. Dullard on the forehead. He cried out with the pain of it and the pigeons peered down at him in wonder.

      The roof of this house leaked. The chimneys smoked. The windows rattled. When it rained there was a flood of water in the cellar. The Dullards had a daughter but she had left home because she had been so unhappy. Yet when she was born her mother had named her Joy. Everything went wrong with the Dullards but they never blamed themselves for their misfortunes.

      One lovely day two fledglings were hatched in the nest. Coo felt the eggs stirring under her breast. She heard small sounds and snuggled the eggs closer and closer. As for Bill, he said her dear name over and over from morning to night, he was so full of pride.

      That night a change came over the sky. A great purple cloud, heavy with rain, was blown in from the east and before long the rain fell in torrents. All the night long it rained and rained. The two pigeons spread their wings over the nestlings, but the rain was so heavy that, in spite of all their efforts, the young ones were washed out of the nest and fell to the cold ground far below. When the grey light of morning came, Bill saw the two little naked bodies lying there and he said, with a moan:

      ‘See what has happened, Coo. Our two babies are dead. Drowned. . . . drowned. . . . drowned.’

      But Coo would not look. She could not believe in such a terrible misfortune. She snuggled the few wet twigs that were all that was left of the nest, and moaned:

      ‘No . . . no . . . no. I won’t believe it. My birdlings are not down there. They are safe under my wing.’