SOLO FLYER CAPTURES THE IMAGINATION

HERMAN, The Homing Pigeon Who Didn’t Go Home

Dec 01, 2024

Author’s Note: As soon as Solo Flyer Herman landed in our lives I was captivated and started to imagine his journey in my mind, creating, with my keyboard, the next wily children’s hero who bravely leaves his racing coop in Japan to see what the world has to teach him, SPARRING WITH MOTHER NATURE along the way. Our friend Paul inspired me to share the story here; Herman’s character captured our hearts. It was somehow natural for me to write his story in the first person, and it’s ready for submission; this is a Substack sneak peek. I made his journey as educational as possible, (learning lots of history myself along the way), each chapter is about a different stop from Okinawa to Palau to Fiji to Tahiti to Easter Island, blown off course to Machu Picchu, the Galapagos, & more, ending up, in March of 2023, on STEADFAST in the Bahamas.

Now, please enjoy his tale from a Bird’s-Eye Point of View!

Finally. The deep navy-blue water turned to a shimmering shade of sapphire, then lighter still with tinges of green, and the coral heads became clearly visible as the depth graduated quickly from twelve thousand feet to twelve. Below me, there was a very unusual, u-shaped archipelago with vast stretches of rugged, undeveloped coastline. I passed over a few craggy islands with sparse palms, bright white beaches and an entire school of graceful Manta Rays; a rare sight indeed. I wondered excitedly if I had reached my destination. Explore the region, Map per Google.

Satellite imagery shows the stunning color differentiation between shallows and trenches. A Bird’s-Eye view, indeed! We saw the school of Mantas & were anchored near the words Albert Town (left) when Herman joined us aboard.

As I got closer the sights were growing more beautiful; even shallower water seemed to glow all the way to the horizon. And there, surrounded by the brightest aqua blue I had seen in a very long time, was a tiny island with a wooden building a bit like the loft I had been raised in. I could hardly remember that, it was so long ago. So many miles ago! I had an intuition I’d be welcome, so I glided lower for a closer look.

The surprising little oasis turned out to be a multi-level structure surrounded by hardwood decks with lots of wires and places to roost. Having traveled halfway around the world, I had seen similar things but most were hard, slippery, white surfaces and nowhere near as appealing. I was tired, I was thirsty, and simply not feeling my best. I don’t have to stop too often, and it was time. I decided this would be the perfect place to regain my strength and landed quietly.

The little island had a gentle rocking motion unlike most places I have experienced, but it was interesting and felt safe. I actually found the movement rather soothing after I had settled in. With the last of my reserves, I hopped down two steps and was in what I thought could be a safe loft. It was strange to have a roof over my head again. For a couple of long minutes, I just paused, resting. Finally resting. I peered down more steps and saw the figure of a woman with hair like I had never seen. All the people I knew had black hair and dark eyes and this person had big, wild, light-colored hair with speckled skin.

I decided to stand my ground and since her face was about the level of my whole self, our eyes met. I tilted my head to get a better look and was startled at the color of hers; one blue and one sortof greenish! Her surprise was palpable, too, but her voice was kind and quiet. “Hey there,” she said to me. And to somewhere beyond my head, “There’s a banded pigeon in the pilothouse!” “A what?” came an unbelieving voice. “A homing pigeon! On the boat,” she replied, still staring at me.

I fluffed a little and tucked myself into a cool, dark corner. She came upstairs with a glass of water, which turned out to be for me; nothing had ever tasted so good! I think it had been quite a while since I’d had really clean water. She offered some food that I did not recognize, so I just drank my fill. I knew that my instincts, though not the homing ones, had brought me to a good place.

Yet-to-be-named Herman rests quietly after arrival.

The other voice was loud and abrupt at first, but when the man saw me, he was quite taken with my appearance, I think. I have beautiful iridescent neck feathers in addition to rather striking dark gray and white markings. My feet really stand out; they are bright red, and the right one has my distinctive band which was placed there when I was very young.

I drank and drank and then simply could not stay awake any longer. The rocking motion and the gentle lapping of the waves lulled me to sleep without even seeking a roost; I was truly tired. I also felt certain that, after flying nearly ten thousand miles, I had reached the Bahamas, the place that so many of my fellow birds had told me about! A sense of peace came over me as I closed my eyes.

The people didn’t seem quite sure what should, or would, happen next. They took lots of pictures and were able to determine what it said on my leg band. The markings say JAPAN 2020 (my birth year) and then the digits 123235. When they realized how far I’d flown, they were visibly impressed and I was very pleased. The black and silver band was uncomfortable at first, but I grew into it and now I don’t notice it at all. Also, it shows people what a special bird I am and that’s fun. Even though their intentions seem honorable, these were still strangers, so I kept my distance while at the same time preening and taking care of myself in case I wanted to stay.

The wild-haired woman was up before dawn the next morning and to my surprise the little island roared to life! Perched on an antique wooden box, I watched as she pulled a great length of chain out of the water and then called back to the man in the pilothouse, “Anchor’s up!” The vibration was a bit disturbing at first but I easily adjusted to that. At sunrise, we watched Crooked Island & the Bight of Acklins, in the far southeastern Bahamas, get smaller and smaller behind us.

As usual, I was right about my location. The people kept a careful log of our progress so I heard and learned the names of all the places we traveled. They have a big glass compass and a machine that tells them where they are. I just use the little sensors on either side of my beak to tell directions and locations, my magnetoreceptors. I don’t think anyone really understands how birds navigate around the world like we do, and it’s pretty cool. I’m proud of myself for coming this far and what an interesting place to end up! No wonder I don’t want to go home like most homing pigeons do.

Over the next few days, the tiny island that I now understood was a classic wooden yacht named Steadfast traveled further and further north through the Out-Islands of the Bahamas, at times with big white canvas sails, silently using the wind just like I do, and other times with a noisy chugging sound and stinky exhaust. We always anchored in beautiful places and sometimes I took a quick flight to look around. I landed on a couple of other boats but they weren’t made of wood and didn’t feel anywhere near as comfortable, safe or strong. I always decided my yacht was the best.

As we sailed our way from anchorage to anchorage, those nice people put a big box and a towel on the back deck with my water glass and a bowl of something they called oatmeal; it wasn’t what I was used to, but helped me regain my strength and was pretty tasty. As was my habit, I spread it out everywhere in the process of eating. No one ever taught me to be neat. They tossed me cinnamon bread, too, and that was delicious.

When they discovered I was from Japan they added uncooked rice to my diet, which I thought was rather funny. Over there, rice is for people and we eat other seeds. I could hear them wondering, doing lots of research, and looking at pictures of famous racing pigeons that look like me.

I had free rein of the yacht and loved to explore. On one side of the bow there were two of the large, flat boards I had seen in the South Pacific. I walked round and round, just doing my thing and watching, always watching my people. On calm days I could see right into the clear water and examine the coral heads that I had admired from far above. So much to see!

I was always shooed off of the canvas, but the big bronze winches, which are used to control the sails, were great places to rest and observe.

I roosted in a different spot every night, trying to find the most protected place, trying to decide if traveling on a yacht felt right. I loved it! I’ve learned phrases like ‘go to the back of the boat’ and the man whistles when he feeds me. They both do, actually, which is interesting because I haven’t made any noise at all, much less a whistle.

On the third day, the man sat close and spoke very kindly to me; I tilted my head with curiosity and understanding, hopping back and forth from one foot to the other. He called me Herman. I had an identity! No one had ever named me before; there were so many other racing pigeons in Japan that they only named us if we returned after the first big race. Many didn’t; some were injured or killed by predators. Me? I saw the big beautiful world with its curved horizon and never turned back, somehow knowing there were great adventures to be had.

I’ve only seen a couple of birds like me in all of my travels, and that was way back in the Eastern Hemisphere, although I’ve heard that the cities in North America and Europe, where ever that is, have lots of pigeons. I wonder if I’m the only Japanese one that ever got all the way to the Bahamas!

On the island of Eleuthera there were lots of birds calling, swooping by and inviting me to stay. I’m gaining my strength back and really enjoying the cruising life; I am Herman the Homing Pigeon that doesn’t want to go home! I don’t want to fly back all those thousands of miles; I’m not even sure I’d be welcome after over two years away! Steadfast is a great way to travel. I hang out on the poop deck, my people bring me whatever I need, and I get to see new places without even getting tired….why would I ever leave? I was having big fun on the boat although it was a little scary when the waves crashed right over the sides and I had to really dig in with my talons.

I have to be honest about this; it was weird being on the surface of the ocean and not looking down from the sky to see where I was! The machine that they have shows the area around us from my usual point of view, “birds-eye,” so sometimes I watched that screen and it made me feel more at home, although we traveled much slower than I would have if I’d been healthy. I’ve never really been a bird in a hurry and I was seeing new places. I had learned that some people are very nice and others shoo me away without even thinking about me as one of Mother Nature’s precious creatures.

Every morning the man talks about me to other voices far away on some sort of crackling device. Sometimes I can understand what they are saying and it seems that now everyone is trying to figure out where I belong. They call themselves the Seven Seas Cruising Association (Visit them here) and I wonder how many of those seas I have seen. I figure I’ve flown over nearly half the world by now. It’s a tremendously big, beautiful place, and can be scary, too.

On several different occasions, the woman asked me in her distinctive, gentle voice, “Where did you come from, Herman? What’s your story?” Oh, how I wish I could tell her! I hop back and forth and tilt my head to show that I understand her question. I really appreciate that she knows how far I’ve come and is curious about the amazing places I’ve seen and experienced. In my mind, I tell these nice people my story. It’s quite an adventure, if I do say so myself. So here goes…..

Author’s post-note: Hope you enjoyed Herman’s first chapter! Think about what that little bird may have SPARRED with flying all that way!! ~J

SOLO FLYER CAPTURES THE IMAGINATION

HERMAN, The Homing Pigeon Who Didn’t Go Home

Discussion about this post