Most pigeons in the city did three things.
Walk. Eat crumbs. Coo.
Walk. Eat crumbs. Coo.
Repeat.
But Percy was different.
Percy had found a note.
A real one. On a park bench. Folded in half.
He opened it with his beak and looked at the words inside.
He couldn’t read. He was a pigeon.
But he could tell it was important. It felt important. The way some things just do.
So he picked it up and flew. 🐦
🏙️ Finding the Right Person
Percy flew over the market.
He dropped the note near a flower seller.
She looked at it. “That’s not for me,” she said.
He picked it up again.
He flew over the fountain.
He dropped it near a man reading a book.
The man looked at it. His eyebrows went up. “This isn’t mine either. But it says — oh. Oh, this is for someone on Beech Street.”
Percy had never heard of Beech Street. But he was willing to try.
🐦 The Note’s Journey
The man pointed Percy toward Beech Street.
On Beech Street, an old woman read it and said: “Third door down. Number seven. The lady with the red plant pot.”
Percy flew to number seven.
The lady with the red plant pot opened the note.
And her face went very still.
And then very, very soft.
“This is from my sister,” she said. “She left this on our old bench. Last spring. I never knew.”
She looked at Percy.
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you very much.”
Percy coo-ed.
Which is pigeon for you’re welcome.
💛 Levi and the New Note
Levi left a note on the park bench the next day.
Not lost. On purpose.
It said: Hello. I hope today is good for you. From, a friend you haven’t met.
Percy found it.
Looked at it very seriously.
Pickedit up.
And flew.
Levi watched him go.
“Where do you think he’ll take it?” Levi asked nobody.
Somewhere it needed to go.
That was where Percy always took things. 🐦