Isolation has created some interesting activities for my daughter and me. We have developed our own language, which has no rhyme or reason, and is complete jibberish, but we manage to have entire fake conversations; we are always looking for ways to make life more interesting as there is no school, no playdates (for either of us), and nothing much else to do. Enter Myrtle. We came upon Myrtle early on in the quarantine. London has many pigeons, but Myrtle was different. She has brown feathers, unlike all the other grey pigeons, which allowed us to always pick her out in a crowd. So, as one does, we gave her a back-story.
We named her and started saying hello whenever our paths crossed, which was often. And so the story began. It was an opportunity for us to be creative together, to enter a make-believe world, and to have a unique shared experience. We decided she had recently moved back to London from New York City, to be closer to her family. And, she is very close with her dad, George who has brilliant, bright green neck feathers.
Myrtle gets around. We’ve seen her over in Hyde Park by the Serpentine and near the Italian Fountains that Prince Albert gave to Queen Victoria as a birthday gift. I can see why she likes it over there. But she always comes back to Notting Hill. One of us might mention something about Myrtle that the other doesn’t know, and we’ll mull over this new fact. Or at times, we will see another bird and discuss their relationship with Myrtle or bring up a falling out they had. Pigeon gossip.
She has a large extended family, but we can always find her with her light brown feathers. They like to gather for hen parties in the park.
They are not social distancing well.
