By Daryl Whiting|
On December 30 2006 I lost a little 2005 pigeon that I had hand raised because of the many problems he developed.
Poor Tumble was tiny, bald, and had huge bug eyes.
He never grew, never self fed, and continued to squeak and squeal like a baby.
Tumble ate great, if I hand feed.
Well, on that day, I got up and ready for work.
I did the usual routine: hand fed two other really young pigeons and, when I went to get Tumble out of his coop, I found him nearly dead.
He was very cold (he would have spells where he acted hypoglycemic).
I tried warming him, talking to him, and there were times I thought he was coming around, and would make it, but Tumble's will to live wasn't as strong as the calls from the other side of the Rainbow Bridge, and his desire to be a healthy, normal pigeon.
When I knew he was going, I told him to go over where he'd fly, have friends, and that some day I'd be there, too.
After all was said and done, tears dried, and my nose blown for the 100th time, I headed to work.
What did I see when I got clear of the trees?
A beautiful rainbow, not a complete rainbow, just half from the ground up, just as clear and bright as can be.
I was able to see this rainbow, able to find it, no matter what direction I was driving all the way to work.
I parked my vehicle, started to walk in to work, and Tumble's rainbow faded then vanished.
Well, I still miss my Tumble, but I'm glad he's free and flying now.