During the Harmattan season, as January came, timber sold out fast, and new trees were cut down. Two baby pigeons lost their home in a tall pine tree.
One was named Betty, and the other, Barbara.
As they sat on a low branch, Betty turned to Barbara. “We are too young to survive on our own, and now we have no home. Where do you think Mother is?”
Barbara sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe we’ll dig for worms and sleep in that old boot until we are strong enough to fly. Then we can look for her.”
Betty frowned. “An old boot? Who lives in an old boot?”
Barbara said nothing.
Betty: “I have a better idea. I will go to the King’s palace and become a clay pigeon.”
Barbara: “What?”
Betty: “The boot is cold. I heard the clay pigeons stay in warm baskets. I’ll listen to the King’s band every day, hear palace stories, watch parties, and be polished.”
Barbara: “And then what?”
Betty did not answer.
Barbara looked at her. “They don’t care about you, Betty. Clay pigeons are used for shooting practice. They throw them in the air and break them for fun.”
Betty laughed. “That’s not true.”
That night, they ate a few worms and slept in the old boot.
By morning, Betty was gone. She had left for the King’s palace after Barbara fell asleep.
Barbara stayed. Days turned into weeks. She learned to catch bugs, dig for worms, and care for herself. When she got strong enough, she flew away and built a nest.
On the other hand, Betty had the best days of her life. The palace was grand—golden lights, soft baskets, and music in the air.
A special servant cared for the King’s clay pigeons, making them ready for the biggest event of the year: the Prince’s wedding.
One evening, Betty and four other clay pigeons were placed in a basket. A servant carried them out of the palace, past the big gates, and into an open field.
Betty had never been here before. The sky was wide. The air was fresh.
From far away, she heard laughter.
“What’s that sound?” she asked.
A clay pigeon beside her whispered, “A man just missed his shot. It’s a shooting contest. Today is the Prince’s wedding day.”
The clay pigeon looked at her. “The Prince is next. He never misses.”
Betty’s heart pounded.
Five minutes later, just like the two pigeons before her, Betty was thrown into the air.
A loud BANG rang out.
She shattered into tiny pieces before she even hit the ground.
The fourth pigeon was tossed up next. The crowd cheered and clapped.
Barbara shook her head from the top of a tree branch where she watched and flew off to feed her babies.
– Ebenezer Roland
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