THE STORY OF A HOMER. 



FRANK M. GILBERT. 



ftiik£$ 



STEEPLE DICK. 



I call him Steeple Dick because he was 

 raised in a church steeple. To all intents 

 and purposes he was a common, blue, town 

 pigeon, just like so many that gain a preca- 

 rious living flying around the streets and 

 „__ picking up what they 

 can. In almost any 

 large city the stee- 

 ples and belfries are 

 full of these .nomads 

 and they all pass as 

 common pigeons, be- 

 longing to nobody; 

 but to anyone who 

 closely noticed our 

 Dick, the bold, fear- 

 less look about the 

 head, the full dam- 

 son eyes, the tapering neck, the square 

 shoulders, strong wings and short, compact 

 body set on sturdy red legs, showed that 

 he was something out of the ordinary. The 

 wattle around his eyes and the other 

 V-shaped wattle over his beak, also gave 

 him a different appearance from the strag- 

 glers that picked around by day and roost- 

 ed in the old steeple at night. Again, the 

 others might grow careless while feeding, 

 and narrowly escape the step of a horse 

 or the wheel of a wagon in the street, or 

 the stone of the small boy; but not so Dick. 

 He was ever on guard and at the slightest 

 motion was up in the air and out of danger. 

 Though he did not know it, Dick was of 

 royal blood, and thereby hangs a tale. 



Across the water, in the kingdom of Bel- 

 gium, the homer is almost a household god. 

 There it is bred to perfection. No other 

 pigeon is so bold and fearless, so full 

 of bulldog tenacity, so full of royal courage. 

 No other has that unfailing instinct that 

 makes him stop at nothing, whether 

 mountain or sea, ice or torrid heat; but will 

 cause him, when released, to fly in a direct 

 line to his home loft, where his mate and 

 little ones are. 



So high in esteem are these birds held 

 that they are used as royal gifts. In 1894 

 the King of Belgium sent some of these 

 homers to the heir apparent of England, 

 who in turn gave some to a friend who was 

 coming to America. By some means, a 

 grand pair were released on a Western 

 railroad. At the first dash they went high 

 in the air, on their strong wings, with ever 

 widening circles, their keen eyes looking 

 for some familiar point. But all in vain. 

 They had never been trained in America, 

 and wee strangers in a strange land. Day 

 after day they flew, trying all points of the 



compass, but were baffled everywhere. One 

 evening, after the ice of a sleet storm had 

 clogged their wings, they settled on one of 

 the highest buildings they could find in a 

 city they had reached, and, closing up to- 

 gether, sat and shivered through the long 

 night. Next morning brought a snow, and 

 then, knowing that their last hope of any 

 landmark was gone, they began to look for 

 shelter. 



It happened they had lit on a church. 

 On one side of its steeple a slat, long bat- 

 tered by the elements, had given down and 

 through this the royal pair saw many a 

 street straggler come ana go. They flew 



THE HOME LOFT. 



over and for a few days roosted with the 

 other birds as best they could, caring for 

 little save a place to sleep. But in a short 

 time the first warm spring breezes began 

 to blow through the steeple, and the breed- 

 ing instinct became strong. The pair cast 

 covetous glances at a corner of the steeple 

 which seemed to have been left by the 

 builders especially for a pigeon's nest. It 

 was not long till, vi ct armis, it was theirs. 



There Dick's career began, and it began 

 alone, for the egg that was 'to have pro- 

 duced his mate was broken in a struggle 

 for the nest. 



Dick's first remembrance was of being 

 imprisoned in something round, smooth 



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