The Sandman: More Farm Stories  by Willliam J. Hopkins

The Pigeon Story

NCE upon a time there was a farm-house, and it was painted white and had green blinds; and it stood not far from the road. In the fence was a wide gate to let the wagons through to the barn. And the wagons, going through, had made a little track that led up past the kitchen door and past the shed and past the barn and past the orchard to the wheat-field.

One day, after little Charles had gone away from that farm, little John found his gun where he had put it away, and he remembered that Uncle John had given it to both of them. He thought he was old enough to try to use the gun, and he wanted to shoot with it. So the next morning, after he had finished his breakfast, he got the gun and some shot and some powder, and he started out the kitchen door and down the little track and out the wide gate into the road. Then he went along the road a long way, past the lane that led to the woods where they had caught the woodchuck, and he turned off at another place and went to some woods that were near the river. He went there because he thought that would be a good place to find some pigeons.

In those days, long ago, there were many wild pigeons. They used to come, sometimes, near that farm, and when they flew along in the air, there were so many of them flying together that they made it seem dark, as though it was a thick cloud. And every day, while they stayed there, they flew off in the morning to feed, and flew back at night to the same place, to sleep. And sometimes there were so many sitting on a branch of a tree that they were too heavy and made the branch break. Men used to shoot those pigeons, and it was easy for the men to shoot a good many of them, because they crowded so. That is why we don't see wild pigeons now. They were very beautiful, and most of them had pretty shiny colours on their heads and necks, reddish and blue and green, almost like a peacock.

Little John thought he would like to shoot one of these pigeons, and he went the way to those woods near the river, because the pigeons liked to go there. When he got into the woods, he walked very carefully and looked about among the trees. And pretty soon he came to a kind of a little open place in the woods, with the river only a little way off. It was a very pleasant place, and little John liked it and used to go there and lie on the ground near the river and watch the water, and sometimes he fished there. When he got there this time, he stopped and looked up in the trees, and there, right at the edge of the open place, sat a pigeon on the branch of a tree.

When little John saw the pigeon, he was excited and his hand shook a good deal while he loaded the gun, and he watched the pigeon all the time because he was afraid that the pigeon would fly away. But the pigeon stayed sitting on the branch, and it watched little John load the gun and wondered what he was going to do with it. Pigeons are stupid, not like squirrels.

He loaded the gun.

At last little John got the gun loaded, and he found a place where he could rest it on a big branch of a tree. And he rested it on the branch and looked along the gun and aimed a long time, and when he thought it was aimed just right, he pulled the trigger and the gun went off with a big noise and smoke. And the end that was against little John's shoulder punched into him and hurt. But he didn't notice it. And when the wind blew the smoke away, there was the pigeon lying on the ground under the tree.

So little John was so excited when he saw that he had hit the pigeon, he dropped his gun and ran over to the tree and picked the pigeon up. It was very beautiful, and its neck and head and wings were all shiny colours, and sometimes they looked reddish and sometimes blue and sometimes green, and when little John looked at it a different way, the colours changed. So he stood there a long time, holding the pigeon and turning it around, to see the blue colour change to green and thinking how pretty it was. And he thought it was so pretty that he wanted to show it to Uncle John and Aunt Deborah right away. So he ran through the woods and into the road and along the road and in at the wide gate and up to the kitchen door, and in.

In the kitchen were Aunt Deborah and Aunt Phyllis, and they thought the pigeon was beautiful. And little John wanted to show it to Uncle John. So he ran out to the barn, and there were Uncle John and Uncle Solomon. And he showed them the pigeon and they thought it was beautiful, and Uncle Solomon said it wouldn't make a big enough pie for the whole family, and he ought to have shot more. Then Uncle Solomon looked at little John and he said, "John, where's your gun?"

When little John heard Uncle Solomon ask that, he tried to think what he had done with the gun, and he couldn't remember, and he was ashamed and didn't say anything. So Uncle Solomon laughed and told him to go back and see if he couldn't find it. So little John walked all the way back to the tree where he stood with the gun. And there was the gun lying on the ground, and he picked it up. Then, when he was rested, he walked back to the farm-house. But he decided that he didn't care much about shooting things, and he wouldn't fire off the gun any more.