I caught a pigeon today.

The cheeky bird had wandered into our house and I found her upstairs in the bathroom. As soon as she saw me, she took flight and tried to escape by flying through the frosted glass of the window. No miracle route to freedom using that method of course.

So I steered her out, but she went the wrong way and flew into the bedroom. Flying into everything in a blind panic she was. The bedside lamp went crashing to the floor, along with my scent jar and all kinds of personal effects.

"It's OK, calm down," I told her, but she wasn't really listening.

She aimed for the window again, hit the glass hard and ended up helplessly flapping her wings behind the curtain. She was trapped, kind of, but I never thought I stood much chance of grabbing her. Yet I did, I caught her first time with my hand wrapped around her chest.

I had hold of her with the most perfect grip possible, she was safely held firm in my hand, with no danger at all of me damaging her wings. I could feel her ribs and her tiny heart pounding away, she was terrified, so I spoke to her all softly again.

"Now you're in big trouble, aren't you?" I whispered.

She just looked at me, she didn't struggle, she seemed resigned to her fate and I'm sure she feared the worst. For this was no ordinary pigeon, this naughty bird and I have a long history, we've been living in conflict now for quite a number of years.

I know for sure she's a girl pigeon because she nests and lays eggs every spring above our patio. She also lays eggs in the summer and autumn, she even lays eggs in winter if the weather is mild enough.

Have you any idea how much mess can come from a pigeon's nest? I'm sure you can imagine. And I'm sure you'll believe me when I tell you our patio didn't come cheap. Those stones were expensive, and the furniture was designed for sitting on, something you can't do when the seats are all covered in...

"I'm going to kill that blasted pigeon," my husband has threatened more than once.

Well now, judgment day had arrived and my little feathered friend was guilty on all charges. I had all the proof I needed right outside. There was even proof in the bedroom after this latest incident, and this wasn't the first time she'd wandered into the house and left her mark.

She was guilty of being a pest, a nuisance that I'm forever cleaning up after. Her and her kind are vermin according to our local authority, and pigeons can carry all kinds of diseases... so what was her defense?

Was living the life of a devoted mother an acceptable plea?

Her every day spent in a fight for survival and raising her young?

I've witnessed her struggles. I know she perches for hour after hour, day after day protecting the eggs in her nest. I've seen the seagulls attack and ruthlessly pillage that nest. I was there in the garden when a sparrow hawk swooped down and slaughtered her first mate.

And I've seen her survive the harshest of winters, seeking food in the snow and standing all night half frozen to death... but I've never once seen any sign of that brave little bird giving up, until today when she surrendered herself to me.

"I caught that pigeon today," I told my husband.

"Really?"

"Yes. She was trapped in the bedroom and I caught her in my hand."

"You don't say?"

"Yes. She was terrified."

"Is she all right?"

"Yes. She's back in her nest."

"Oh good."

"She's laid two eggs."

"I'm going to kill that blasted pigeon," he threatened with a smile once again.

steffanie xxx