My husband loved birds. As a boy he raised a young red-tailed hawk as a pet. Its name was Beaky. Frank then graduated to pigeons and raised them at different times of his life. When we married and moved to Northern California he acquired a starting flock and then brought them to San Diego 7 years later. For 20 years we had a pigeon loft. Then when he’d had surgery and was in rehab, he gave me permission to find a home for them. I did and the pigeon loft was torn down and the screened cage on the outside was disassembled. No trace of a pigeon loft remains. Tonight while watching the news I looked out at the deck and saw a banded pigeon sitting on the porch rail. I knew it was one of Frank’s. It had come back somehow and looked rather forlorn sitting later on the roof of the back garage where they used to wait for Frank to feed them and lift the bobs of the opening. They were always hungry and as soon as the bobs were lifted it amazed me how over 30 birds could get in the loft so fast! Now one lone birds sits out there, maybe wondering where all his friends are. I felt sad for the bird and put some crumbs out, but he just sits there. He finally made it home, but no one was there. 😥