Doveland (8 page)

“Why don't we dig our own trench in the ground like the allies to keep warm?”

“Okay, do you think it will work?”

“S-s-sure, I'm freezing.”

Into the woods they went to find a perfect location. The cold drizzle turned to sleet as they hurriedly began to dig into the frozen
mud. They turned around, back to back, only to backlash each other. When that didn't work, they stood side by side and began working their claws into the frozen mud. They worked together until they prepared a small furrow at an angle they could exit.

“This will be better than a tree nest. You'll see!” bragged Homer.

When it was large enough for both of them to slide down, Homer pulled an evergreen twig over their opening as they slid down inside. Soon, they began to relax in their warm environment, protected from the north winds.

“You are one smart grouse, Homer!”

“A partridge, Clovis, did I tell you I come from a smart line of partridges?”

“How can you be related to so many birds?”

When Clovis heard no answer, he knew Homer had fallen asleep in a warm comfortable environment.

The next morning, ground artillery commenced at dawn, awakening the birds.

Overnight, several inches of snow had fallen above them.

“If it's already daylight, how come it is so dark in here?” asked Clovis.

“Are my eyes open?” Is it still night? First, my hearing goes, now I can't see!” shrieked Homer.

“Calm down, Homer, it is too dark in here to see.”

“We're buried alive?”

“Rise above it, Homer, and help loosen the branch.”

Clovis tried to peck at the hard pieces of ice glued to the pieces of evergreen.

“My beak is numb,” slurred Homer.

They finally pecked a small hole through the ice and soft snow crumbled in.

“I can breathe again!” sighed Homer.

Finally, they emerged out of the small hole, one at a time, and flapped the snow off their wings. Clovis began to criticize Homer.

“If it had been rain, I suppose the smart partridge side of your family would have drowned us!”

“Rise above it, Clovis!” he retorted.

Clovis began to laugh at Homer.

“What's so funny?”

“Nothing really, it's just that those squishy combs over your eyes are frozen stiff.”

“Well, the feathers on your head would be frozen if you had any.”

They both began to laugh at each other with cold numb beaks, glad to be alive.

Later that day, they returned to the sidelines to find the intensity of warfare gradually decreasing once again. Both sides of the battlefield were huddled deep inside the trenches to shield themselves from the bitter cold winds. Clovis and Homer found a warm lookout in a nearby underbrush.

It was the second Christmas into the war, which meant another holiday truce. The grenadier and his friends gathered around a small fire to keep warm, while Clovis and Homer chose to remain in their warm underbrush and stay out of trouble this holiday.

As the weather grew warmer and spring was approaching once again, Clovis and Homer set out in search of enemy carrier pigeons delivering messages. While they were taking the message out of the canister, they noticed another flyer overhead. There was a change in the pattern of communication. Enemy carriers were being liberated in pairs. Their strategy had to change. They would work alone, and meet back at the lookout, unless something went wrong. This strategy worked for weeks. One day Homer didn't show up and Clovis flew around looking for him. Finally, he found him wandering around on the floor of the forest, disoriented.

“What happened?”

“That's what I've been trying to figure out!”

“Are you okay?”

“All I know is I took down this crazy red hen, and when we hit the ground, she started pecking the daylights out of me. I tried to explain that I wasn't a roving bird looking for a mate, but it was too late. Then she flew away.”

“It's okay, Homer.”

Homer looked up at Clovis. His head was bloody, and one of the combs over his eyes was torn, with a tiny piece of fleshy skin over his eye.

“Can you see okay, Homer?”

“I guess so, but from now on, we'll leave the hens to you!”

“Okay.”

One afternoon, as Clovis and Homer perched on the sidelines, an enemy carrier pigeon entered their side of the forest just a few yards down. The strange behavior seemed intentional. Homer waited while Clovis investigated.

Clovis hid among the trees as he quietly scanned the forest for the mysterious flyer. To his alarming surprise, the bird had rejoined an army of enemy carrier pigeons. There were more than a
dozen lined along the branches, possibly ready to launch a deadly attack on Clovis and Homer. His fear was confirmed when he spotted the Spitter among them.

Clovis returned to Homer.

“What did you find out?”

“One is all they wanted us to see.”

“They, who are they, Clovis?”

“The Spitter is among them.”

“More than four?”

“I didn't count them.”

Homer began to quiver with visions of being attacked and pecked to death, like Somerset.

Clovis had a plan that might work, but first he would have to convince Homer to go along.

“We can always desert the troops and join the birds in southern France.” suggested Clovis.

“Why not? We're doomed if we stay!”

“Of course,” Clovis continued, “If we choose to flee, it would mean victory for Vogelzar, and he would become ruler of the bird empire!”

Homer grimaced, as he could see that Clovis had no intention of letting that happen.

“How can the two of us win a fight against an army of birds, huh?”

“I have a plan that may work. We need some boom.”

“You mean the grenadier's boom?”

Clovis began to explain how they would place a grenade in the middle of the forest. Homer would wait with the pin intact, while Clovis led the flock close to the floor of the forest. Clovis would timely signal Homer to release the pin from the grenade, and both of them would escape the explosion. The crimson combs over Homer's eyes began to rise.

“You want me to sit on a grenade that goes boom?”

When Clovis did not answer, Homer grimaced.

“Well, you can forget it, Clovis!” He began moving down to the end of the branch.

Clovis paced Homer's steps, and spoke to him in a grim tone.

“It's our turn to go over the top, my friend.”

Like the Tommies in the trenches, they were outnumbered, and would be unable to defend themselves against an attack. Homer finally agreed, and they proceeded as planned.

The grenadier always set two grenades on the parapet. While he was opening another box, they quickly selected one of the grenades and began rolling it quickly toward the woods. The grenadier emerged to find one missing. Looking all around, he spotted the two birds wrestling with it a short distance away. His first instinct was to retrieve it, but leaving his post may compromise the safety of his fellow comrades.

They stopped in the middle of the woods and Homer carefully positioned his claw inside the pin. He was more afraid than he had
ever been in his life, ever. Clovis warned Homer that timing was everything. He must wait for his whistle before pulling the pin.

Clovis flew into the forest straight toward the waiting band of enemy carrier pigeons. As soon as Clovis was sure the enemy carriers saw him, he made a startling turnabout performance. Leaping up and away from the oncoming band of enemy carriers, he kept the flock at a safe distance close to the ground, navigating around trees and shrubs. The moment Homer heard Clovis whistle, he pulled the pin and quickly fled into the forest followed by Clovis who passed over the ticking grenade at ground-breaking speed, dodging trees in his path.

The explosion sent forest debris high into the air. When Clovis and Homer met up, they were overwhelmed by the success of their actions.

Meanwhile, the grenadier noticed bird feathers floating in the air among the forest debris in the distance, and felt responsible.

“Those poor birds,” he uttered. “I should have looked after them.”

Clovis and Homer were safe for the moment. But, they were aware of the growing dangers of continuing their exploits. Their mission had ended on the sidelines for now. They decided to fly north to the Netherlands, a neutral country.

Clovis and Homer landed in the marshy region of the Netherlands and began foraging for food.

“No more adventures, Clovis, okay?”

Before Clovis could reply, they heard a voice in the background.

“Hier, vogeltje, vogeltje” (Here, birdie, birdie), repeated in a higher pitch.

They followed the voice to a nearby village where they watched an old woman, clinching her apron full of bread crumbs, and tossing them to the ground.

“Look, bread crumbs, my dream come true!” Homer rejoiced.

Clovis suggested that Homer wait before rushing to join the tiny birds. Among the summer visitors were sandpipers, plovers, and a few larks. Chirping sounds increased when a large vagrant grouse landed among them, and began devouring all the delicious morsels. The old lady warned Homer, and began to shoo the large bird, but he paid her no mind until she unexpectedly steamed
toward him with a brickbat in her hand. Homer dodged the flying missile which barely nipped his tail in his efforts to escape. Panting with fear, he returned to find Clovis amused at the whole incident.

“It's not funny, Clovis. She would have killed me!”

“You are not a birdie, Homer.”

“A bird is a bird, is a bird!” he grimaced as he watched the bread crumbs on the ground disappear one by one.

They returned to the marshy grassland and began browsing for grass seeds. Soon, they noticed a large pigeon flying from the east, and they wasted no time hiding in the underbrush as its large shadow swept over them. The familiar red scarf sent chills over Homer.

“It's Vogelzar, remember him?” asked Clovis.

“Kommandant Vogelzar, without his chain!”

“This could be an important mission, Homer.”

“No, Clovis, we're no match for him.”

It was too late. Clovis leaped up into the air to follow Vogelzar, and the reluctant Homer soon joined him. Staying a safe distance behind, they followed Vogelzar as he continued his flight across the Netherlands and out over the North Sea. Vogelzar landed aboard a light cruiser of the German Imperial Navy. Part of the northbound German fleet, it was already steaming out to sea near the coast of Jutland, the largest province in Denmark. Clovis and Homer landed on the rear deck of the ship where they waited and watched. The stern moved up and down in the high seas, tossing, pitching. Homer became seasick.

“I don't like this, Clovis. Let's get out of here!”

“Not yet, Homer, wait!”

A portable pigeon pen in the middle of the deck was just a short distance away. It was partially draped at the top. Clovis carefully moved in closer to investigate, and hid behind the tarp.

“Lookout!” shrieked Homer. But, it was too late.

Thinking the bird had escaped from the cage, a seaman grabbed a fishing net and captured Clovis.

“Taube! kommher zu mir!” (Dove, come here)

Homer panicked, and flew around the ship where he could see his friend, and remain undetected. The cage held about ten other carrier pigeons, and unknown to Clovis, his archenemy Vogelzar. Clovis became fearful when Vogelzar began shoving his way toward him.

“Did you plan to intercept my message too? I sent an army of birds to destroy you, but you destroyed my army, didn't you, wimpy dove?” Homer witnessed Vogelzar's wrath as he began to tighten his talons around Clovis. Clovis tried to rise above his fears.

“If you hurt me, your sea commander will think you are a bird killer, and you will lose your job, Kommandant Vogelzar.”

As much as Vogelzar wanted to destroy Clovis, he knew the dove was right, and released his grip. His large beak opened and closed silently to demonstrate his frustration.

“Very well,” he whispered, as he looked outside the cage where sailors were walking about. “But, I will see that you starve to
death!” Vogelzar returned to the door to stand guard with his notorious intimidating laugh.

After watching the confrontation, Homer left the ship under cover of darkness. He planned to fly to the coast of Denmark, and return later with food for Clovis. He landed inside a forest and rested in the grasses for the night. Homer rose at dawn and found himself near a little pond. After browsing for food, he gathered some food for Clovis. Someone was watching him.

“Hello.”

“Who are you?”

“Grouse Breda, I live here with my father.”

“I'm Homer.”

Grouse Breda was reddish brown with a black tail, and white legs. He told the friendly grouse about his dilemma, and she offered to help him gather seeds and dried berries. They placed them inside a leaf that he could transport back to the ship.

Meanwhile, Clovis felt doomed as he remained in the back corner of the cage, afraid he would starve to death. He was already
hungry. The leading edge of the sun began to rise over the horizon as Homer arrived with food. He quietly pushed the leaf through the bars; then returned to Denmark before daybreak. Hiding in the shadow of another dove, Clovis placed the leaf under his wing, consuming one morsel at a time. When he was finished, he pushed the empty leaf behind him.

The cage door opened at daybreak and a long rectangular pan filled with fine grain mixed with seed was laid in the middle of the cage. Smirking at Clovis, Vogelzar began to eat, and allowed all the other pigeons and doves to gather around the tray. The other birds were too afraid of their Kommandant to help the newcomer.

Each morning, Homer provided fresh food for Clovis, and each morning, he consumed the food in the shadow of the same dove. She was white with pink markings, and decided to turn around and introduce herself.