Yesterday Junior Pigeon was hopping around on my balcony (including hopping onto the wrought iron bench and into the potted rose bush), watching the other pigeons here in the corner of my building’s courtyard, and so wanting to fly.  He preened nervously and stretched first one wing and then the other.  I marveled at how baby pin feathers had turned into strong gray flight feathers.

This morning I found him peering down from the roof of the building across the courtyard.

He’s a more relaxed bird today, easily flying from building to building and back to my balcony to perch on the bench and preen at length.   He’s a bird who can fly.  Even with silly strands of yellow baby down strands still remaining on his head, like an absurd crown.