The deck sliders are wide open and a steady, delicious breeze blows into the room. This is the season and the weather we wait for …Floridians willing to suffer through the hellish temperatures of summer. This is the payoff.

It is a lovely quiet beginning to our Saturday. I’m on the couch, waiting for the meds to kick in. Without warning, the tranquility is shattered by the desperate flapping of birds’ wings. Baxter and Roxy stir, their noses active in the fresh air. They stand up just as a pair of Morning Doves jet through the doors and land atop our kitchen cabinets.

The dogs stayed calm. I stayed calm. Hans stayed calm. One of the doves stayed calm and executed a beautiful escape with no hesitation. The other dove took a bit more persuasion and finally Hans was able to hold the distressed bird and gently release it. It flew off leaving behind a large handful of feathers. Quick research assured us that the partially plucked avian will be fine and will regenerate the feathers quickly. Oh dear!

Our adventure in bird land this morning reminded me of a Dad story.

Major Irving Starr was living well. He and his family occupied the middle townhome on Colonels’ row. Each time he reentered Fort Hamilton, he passed under the Verrazano Bridge. He dutifully showed his ID card, got saluted and waved through. Sometimes he mock saluted the pigeons who roosted under the bridge, peering out as if they were a second line of security.

The Major still marveled at the cannons that stood at the front of the expansive lawn issuing forth to the houses. Truth be told, he was in awe of their entire quarters. The family was comfortably settled in a four story Colonial…rooms and rooms filled with Army furnishings, dark wood and brass hardware everywhere. There was a butlers pantry and back staircase and more rooms then the five of them needed.

Debbie had a huge bathroom on the 3rd floor dedicated to her Barbies, Little Kittles and GI Joes stolen from her little brother. Her gerbils had their own basement level room where they seemed to be multiplying out of control.

His wife, Joan,seemed happy to be back in New York. She was teaching GIs on base a few evenings a week and had recently found a chicken under her car after class, so they had a new pet. Henny Penny. (Quite unusual on an Army Base in Brooklyn).

But Henny Penny is not the star of this story. She is just an aside. Pay no attention to the chicken.

The star of the story is a pigeon. A pigeon, who, with reckless abandon, did fly through the gates of Fort Hamilton, straight through the open car window driven by one Major Irving Starr…said pigeon collided with the Major’s eyeball, where it hung for just a moment until gravity dropped it on his lap.

This was the story that Dad relayed to the doctor at the base hospital. The doctor looked skeptical, taking a step back to take another look at the swollen orb. Dad was unbothered and being a lawyer and a judge, he was also prepared. He reached into his right coat pocket, stretched out his arm and opened his fist. Pigeon anyone?