Chico; The Story of a Homing Pigeon (Paperback)

Excerpt: ...He might be tracked by that old fool of a caretaker, and in that case he would have had his pains for nothing. And if by chance the matter should be brought to the attention of the authorities, he might be arrested and jailed; the Venetians make such a fuss over their precious pigeons. A knock at the door made him start guiltily and thrust the pigeon roughly back into the box. After all, it was only a messenger with a telegram recalling him immediately to Vienna, which, he reflected, fitted nicely into his plans. He would start the next morning, he concluded, as he carefully concealed the black box under the bed, and took more than usual pains in locking the door when he went out for dinner and to complete his arrangements in regard to leaving. Chico heard the door close and knew he was alone. What did it all mean? He had never before suffered such indignities To be placed by loving friends in his dear familiar basket, while he was being taken to some point from which he might make a glorious flight-he had long since become reconciled to that experience; but to be seized by a stranger's hands and ignominiously shoved into a black prison and hidden in a strange room-that was an insult his free spirit could not brook. For a while he felt too utterly despondent to make a movement, but after a little, very cautiously, he began again to feel carefully with his beak around the box in search of some crack. There was not one to be found. Next he tried with all his power to enlarge the tiny airholes. It was impossible, and he gave himself up to blackest despair. When his captor returned he opened the box, took out the bird, at the same time placing some kernels of corn and a saucer of water before him. Chico had no appetite for food, but parched with thirst drank feverishly. "Eat can't you?" The man spoke roughly. What on earth was the matter with the pigeon to be so obstinate? "Hang it, if he won't eat," he exclaimed aloud, "he'll starve to death...