Hand Raising A Pigeon

Hand Raising A Pigeon

I was born and raised in the countryside. I have a pigeon. It is not like other pigeons that fly around. It has only one leg.

I had a dream since I was small, so I hand-raised it.

Every morning it would eat food and then fly onto my shoulder. We flew into sky together, and it chirped happily.

One day, there was an earthquake. The pigeon’s leg got hurt in the earthquake, so it couldn’t stand on its leg again.

I felt sorry for it, so I decided to raise it with my hands.

It took a long time to take care of it every day, but we were very happy together. We had fun playing together every day as if nothing happened.

Time went by quickly, and every day was just fun for me.

However, one day the pigeon suddenly died without any reason when I took a nap after lunch break…**...**

In 1872, the most famous pigeon race in history took place. The prize was a golden cup, worth 3,000 francs. The birds came from all over Europe. There were English tumblers, Hungarian tumblers, and even some Chinese fantails. Most of the birds were released in Paris. A few were held back and sent on the train to the south of France, where they would be released at the same time as their competitors.

A young engineer named Gaston Tissandier had an idea. He decided to raise a pigeon by hand. The pigeon he selected was a plain-looking bird with no pedigree or special qualities whatsoever. He had decided to do something that no one had ever done before: he would accompany his bird on its journey and make sure it didn't get lost or distracted along the way.