The Pigeon Chronicles

He began telling his son the story that was told to him:          
         
In the Beginning          
             
“Having a visual aid is what ultimately leads to new understanding. It may be unorthodox to place a piece of artwork at the heart of science lesson, but today class, we’re going to take a look at a famous painting; Le Derby d'Epsom.  It is the shining example of a controversial science debate because of the way the artist painted the horse’s legs; it is an anatomical impossibility.  The discovery is a lesson in physics based on viewing motion at various speeds, and ultimately, it is the behind the scene story of how motion pictures came to be.  Class, if science can teach us one thing, it is to never forget, in that we see each failure as only a beginning.  The conundrum was this…”                
             
As the professor switched on the overhead projector displaying the famous painting for the class, Pigeon’s hand went high in air.  Pigeon was always at the ready for an adventure to wherever her mind could take her; she had watchful eyes and a face that was the picture of sweetness and virtue, and although, Mr. Lytle, tried to ignore it, her excited hand could never be overlooked.  Now what, thought the professor as he was ever reluctant to answer her call, for that hand was only a reminder of how far off track his lessons had been in the past, but in his usual tone, he answered her,              
             
“Yes, Pigeon, what’s your question.”              
             
"I would like to challenge visual representation, please Sir"              
             
The professor took a deep breath, “Go ahead, Pigeon, state your case.”              
             
             
"Let me just start by saying, Mr. Lytle, that, The General Theory of Relativity, predicts that the wavelengths of light are always increasing towards larger values and change in direction because of mass, this creates a warp in time over distance; a loop if you will...this is what is called red shift, yet unseen, it is a value that is independent of any observation, thus is always the now value.  Newton predicted the electromagnetic field that was gravitation, and according to, Dr. Einstein, the electromagnetic field can have waves in it that carry energy in that we call light. Ultimately, if a gravitational field has waves that carry light such as the prediction by Einstein, then perhaps actual viewing isn't necessary at all.  My prediction is that we can feel the mass touring near with only certain calculation of velocity, relative as a Doppler effect.  I've worked out a demonstration, Mr. Lytle; perhaps I could show the class.”                
             
             
And that’s when the shift occurred; off track, just as the professor predicted.              
             
“I have everything here with me, Mr. Lytle, and all it would take is a small stroll outside to the apple tree, and it’s such a beautiful day.”              
             
The professor was perplexed and hesitant at, Pigeon’s, suggestion of course, but he couldn't resist her sweetness and her love of adventure, and so with his own curiosity intact he let her continue on with her quest.              
             
 “Perhaps some fresh air might do the class some good,” the professor answered, and with that, the class moved outside and gathered around the tree to watch the experiment that Pigeon had prepared. She unloaded her backpack...              
             
"Now what I have in my hand is one red brick; the color itself represents good scientific expectation, but let’s not lean on silly superstition; I just like red; we must be open minded to all possibilities.”              
             
This gave rise to the professors left eyebrow, momentarily upon contemplation of outcomes, yet he listened as, Pigeon, continued.              
             
“I've chosen the brick too for its sheer strength relative to the wavelike softness of the gravitation in which it will ride upon.  That, and it also gives a perfect place to secure this small gauge rope to which I will attach it to.”                
             
As the professor and the class became ever more intrigued with the experiment, Pigeon, tied the rope around one of the small holes at the end of the brick; the demonstration came next.              
             
“Mr. Lytle, please climb this tree for me and place the brick onto a low branch.  Make it secure, but not bound to a position in order to manipulate it down with only slight ease.”                
             
Now completely enthralled in, Pigeons, unwavering spirit for the demonstration, the professor did what, Pigeon, asked without hesitation.                
             
“Thank you, Mr. Lytle.  Now everyone keep it in mind that I will conduct this without the use of any visual aid, simply by closing my eyes; this takes out any accountability to interfere with the outcome to prove my hypothesis of not needing one.”              
             
One of the children standing close to, Mr. Lytle, looked at him and asked what was going to happen, in that the professor replied, “You’re guess is as good as mine.”              
             
Pigeon, continued.              
             
 “Now, as I pull on the rope, I will calculate the velocity of the gradually increasing gravitational ripples, which when only felt, unseen, will cause me to move out of harm’s way automatically in time for the brick to hit the ground.  Let’s begin the calculation.  And as I close my eyes, and set my grandofluxiclosemyeynominomiter, I give it only a tiny pull, and now...”                
             
And it was just then you could hear the professor,              
             
“Pigeon, wait!!              
             
Move Out of the Way!!!!                
             
Pigeon, Speak to me! Speak to me, Pigeon!!”              
             
But, Pigeon, did not speak; the damage was done.  Brain Damage.          
         
               
             
“That was a great story, Dad,              
It explains a lot              
about our stupidity,              
but it really doesn't tell us              
much about where we come from”              
             
"I told you, Son, your grandmother was from the, White Cliffs of Dover.  Just keep your eyes open, Son, I know we're near something good.  How about I tell you another story?”                
             
“Okay, Dad.”            
             
Father Pigeon went on with another story as their forage continued:              
             
Well Isn't That a Fine Mess!          
         
The Doctor shined his light into the dark cavity left after the removal,              
             
"It can’t be!" the doctor exclaimed, and reeled back, bumping into, Whoever.              
             
"What is it, Dr. Whomever?" cried, Whoever.              
             
Dr. Whomever, stooped nearer and nearer as the shadow of the lantern swayed wildly along the top of the cave, dipping in and out of the impressionistic, something or other on the wall.              
             
"Is it a joke?" ask, Whoever, “Oh no! It’s a stool pigeon in a state of abomination!  How could they have done such a thing?”  Whoever, exclaimed!              
             
”This isn't just any stool pigeon,” said, Dr. Whomever, examining the bandages around the head case that lay before him.  “This pigeon has had her brain removed”              
             
"How could they have used this knowledge for such a barbaric purpose!" The doctor yelled as he leaned in, and then said,              
             
“Pigeon, can you understand me?”              
             
Pigeon, looked up at the Dr., confused and unknowing, her face weary of holding on in the caved-in cave that the 2 Whos had came upon.              
             
“Your holding on to words, Pigeon, let them go,” said the doctor. “What do you fear anymore, Pigeon? you have no brain; its phantom pain alone that you suffer, Pigeon.  Use this phantom to guide you.  Why, from now on Pigeon, its only wide open spaces in your head with song...”              
             
Pigeon, short on hope, stood on a stool nearby and spoke, "I wonder if I can even whistle again,  O! my goodness!" she gasps, "Sam was that me I just heard?"                
             
“Don't be afraid, Pigeon, stay calm…” The doctor continued, “Why Pigeon, when you're perplexed and see no way of escape, its only then you will invariably open the way to complete deliverance. There is no real outward way of escape from your miseries or circumstances, Pigeon; all help must come from within you. You don't need a brain to be a brainless.  You Pigeon! Only you, use the phantom, Pigeon, Sing Pigeon! Sing!”                
             
And so she did, and as she flew out of the cave whistling in delight of the new realization that she no longer needed a brain, Whoever, looked at, Dr. Whomever, in wonder and said, “Who's Sam?”                
             
“Well, who is he, Dad?”                
             
“We don’t know, Son.”  We’re pigeons and we hardly know anything.  We only know how the story goes; In a nutshell.”              
             
“Awesome! do you see a nut, Dad?”                
             
“Calm down son, it’s only an expression. I haven’t had a good nut in a while now.  At any rate, that’s how we became pigeons, somehow, a name synonymous of a beautiful dumbass that interrupted a science class, once upon a time, West of the equator.”              
             
“But how do we know it’s the truth..?”              
             
“ There were many strange writings on the wall, Son, one of the most important of them was next to a picture that was of our image, and the passage read: ‘and they will have scabby grey and white feathers, small peckers, and a deformed foot,’ and well son, that certainly foots the bill, doesn't it?”              
             
“It sure does, Dad,              
             
“Dad, isn't there anything else to being a pigeon..?”                
             
“Not that I can see, Son, not that I can see.  Just always remember this, wherever you wander, always look at the writing on the wall and try and find yourself next to it, if the image fits; it sticks.  The truth is out there, Son.  Hey, here’s one now.”              
           
And the wall next to their image read this:  As they would say to a far off day, on a far off night, in a far off time, and as the scribe writes: Gilgamesh; "what you seek you will never find. For when the Gods created man, they let death be his lot and eternal life they withheld...Let your everyday be full of joy, love the child that holds your hand, let your wife delight in your embrace. For these alone are the concerns of humanity." ― The Epic of Gilgamesh              
             
"Oh look, Son, a ding dong! That’s our ticket home; wanna race?                
             
“Yea, Dad, let’s run!”            
           
           
           
           
Pigeon photography:            
A Pigeon with German            
miniature camera,            
probably taken            
during the First World War.