by Stephen Popoff

When we were kids back in the day, raising pigeons was a fairly common thing to do. That may seem strange to a lot of you nowadays who think of pigeons as rats with wings that poop all over statues but believe me there is a lot of diversity in the pigeon world. Rock pigeons are the most common type and these are the ones that can be found in cities all over the world. Then of course there are the wood pigeons and turtle doves. But when I was kid it was all about raising the exotics, especially the tumblers which we  called roller pigeons. This is a story about a very special roller pigeon named Mr. Beak.

Roller pigeons will fly to a certain height, roll downwards a few times and then straighten out. No one knows for sure why they do this but it is thought that it may be to avoid predators or as a mood booster. Regardless, I had real bad luck with my first few roller pigeons as they would only roll once or twice. The other kids in the neighborhood had tumblers that would roll five to seven times and I lost a lot of bets. I began to think that the strange man who sold pigeons in Montalvin Manor was selling me bunk tumblers. I walked to his house one Saturday afternoon and complained that the tumblers he sold me were embarrassing me and that I was losing face with the neighborhood kids. He seemed sympathetic, opened the door to his pigeon coop, and picked up a beautiful cream colored pigeon.

“This is Mr. Beak. I promise you he will roll more than twice and he’s yours for just 25 cents,” he offered.

I was surprised at the cheap price. In those days, a good tumbler would cost around 5 dollars but sometimes you could win that money back by winning bets. I did not trust this man but for 25 cents what did I have to lose. He put Mr. Beak into a box with air holes and I was on my way home. 

When you get a new pigeon, the first thing to do is train them on how to use the trap door to get back in the cage on their own. That’s exactly what I did with Mr. Beak and then I left him in the cage to get acquainted with the other pigeons and become accustomed to his new home.

About five days later, I decided to let Mr. Beak fly and see what he could do. So far, the only thing odd about Mr. Beak that I noticed was his eyes. He seemed to be looking past me, not at me. I carried him out to the backyard and released him. What happened next is pigeon history. He flew straight up, straightened out and began to roll. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight – He kept rolling and rolling until he hit the ground. Thud!  I picked him up. He was okay except those eyes that seemed to be looking off into the distance. I put him back in the cage and was happy that no-one else witnessed his performance. I went to bed that night knowing that I had a champion in Mr. Beak and couldn’t wait to earn some real money from the neighborhood kids.

The weekend came and some of the kids gathered for a rolling contest at the house across the street.

“I see you got another weak-ass roller,” said a kid named Lenny.

I just smiled and told him that I wanted to make a bet. “One dollar for every roll. If my pigeon rolls twice and your’s rolls five times, you win an easy three bucks.”

“You better have the money on you,” he threatened. Lenny was a bit of a jerk.

He was holding a brown colored roller pigeon with the original name Brownie. I was holding on to Mr. Beak nervously. I had no idea how this was going to go down.

“Brownie will go first. We have three witnesses and counters,” he said as he pointed to the kids on the grass. He released Brownie. Brownie flew high and around for several minutes before it started its roll. 

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven,” counted the kids on the grass as Brownie finished its rolls.

I only had five dollars on me. Mr. Beak would at least have to roll twice. 

“Your turn,” yelled Lenny and the kids on the grass mockingly.

I wasn’t sure if the first time with Mr. Beak had been a fluke. I brought his head up close to my mouth and whispered. “This is who you are. You were born for this day. You can do this.”

Mr. Beak just looked off into the distance as if there was someplace he wanted to go. I released him. Just like the previous time, he flew straight up but this time even higher. His magnificent roll began. When the kids on the grass counted past 50, Lenny began to cry. The final count was 77 when Mr. Beak crashed into the driveway. I picked him up. His heart seemed to be beating slower but his eyes continued to stare off into the distance. Lenny lost 70 dollars and I got a lot of respect for having the coolest roller pigeon ever.

Lenny had to get a job cutting grass that summer but he did finally pay me my 70 bucks. Mr. Beak passed away that night in the cage but somehow I wasn’t sad. I truly believed that he finally made it to that place he was looking for, that place just beyond the horizon.

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