The Mysterious Man Who Fed The Pigeons:

Treasuries come to us in many ways and different forms. There are moral treasures; the ones we see with our heart, and the physical ones; those we see with the eyes. Only we tend to recognise the latter more. 

Well, it’s easier to recognise the value of a box filled with gold for example. The yellow stone has a collective weight in our eyes. We immediately recognise its value. 

Recently, I came across one. It didn’t come in a box, it wasn’t yellow, and it wasn’t made of metal, either. But its value extended far beyond that of the stones buried deep in Africa.

Walking down the street, I heard wings flapping. A common sound, you might say, especially in a busy city. But this was different. The sound was louder than usual—like a whole tribe of birds flapping their wings in sync with the wind. It was a beautiful harmony that momentarily silenced the roaring engines around me.

This is an actual picture of the event.

The sound made me grateful I’d broken my last pair of earphones. It made me glad to be present. My ears guided my head to follow the sound. And there it was: the treasure in its purest form—the one that moves me.

Dozens of pigeons had gathered around a building window. The luckiest among them found a pole to perch on; the others flapped their wings, hovering in the polluted air. If there were a universal way to define pigeon excitement, this was it. They seemed to know the address, as if it were a daily rendezvous that I happened to witness.

Behind the flock, an arm appeared, followed by a silhouette that quickly became a face. A man, with a white beard that matched his full head of white hair. He was shaking a bag in the air, making crumbs fall like rain. His face was stoic; to him, this was routine. The pigeons followed the crumbs wherever they landed, then came back for more.

Me? Like any millennial, I instinctively reached for my phone. A smile spread across my face—one I had no control over. Like a Pokémon hunter, I felt a duty to capture the moment. Why? I asked myself later. Why do we deem certain things worth preserving?

There’s a quiet urge inside us to capture the kindness of a moment, hoping it will live on forever. The Man Who Feeds The Pigeons now lives on, in this blog. May he serve as an example to us all, a reminder to be kinder to the creatures around us.

Perhaps one day, he might stumble upon this post and raise his hand in acknowledgment. It’s unlikely, but if he does: I want to say thank you. For feeding another creature is one of the kindest gestures we can offer.

Now back to you: What small act of kindness have you witnessed or experienced recently that made a difference in your day?

External resources:

• Kindness matters guide: Mental Health Matters
• The amazing talents of pigeons – and why we should learn to love them – New Scientist

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