Requiem for a pigeon

Today when I came to my parents' house I was told that Lotje, our pigeon was very ill. I took a look and noticed it, too. She was lying on the ground with her wings slightly opened up. She had her eyes closed, but when I came nearer she opened them. She was breathing heavily, her entire body going up and down with each breath. I stroked her, and her tiny head turned towards me. She seemed to enjoy it, and I continued it for a bit.

Two hours later she looked much worse. Her eyes were open, but in an unattentive way; she did not close them at any point. Her head lay in her neck, her beak nearly pointing backwards. Her wings were spread out as if in flight, and her body was upright, in stark contrast to her head. For perhaps an hour or two this continued, with the occassional extra heavy gasping and breathing, but we were convinced that she was nearly dead. She was, after all, 18 or so years old.

Then, when both my parents were otherwise occupied and I kept watch, she suddenly stirred. For a moment she seemed to have recovered and her head went back into normal position. But she was not awake, as her eyes still did not blink. Then, suddenly, she started flapping her wings. She aimed upwards, but had not the power to lift herself up. Still, she kept beating and beating her wings until she had pumped out all the air remaining in her lungs. Her head went backward and forward as it tried to collect more air to continue her flight, but each time she was weaker because of it. She finished her last flight.

And I cried.