Freddy and the start of the digital highway

A couple of weeks ago I made a blog about critters in video games, and from the reactions I got it was clear that the majority of my readers feel the same. It’s hard to slay your critters in a game, and most of us only do it if it’s absolutely necessary. It goes without saying that I shudder to think of anything happening to my critters in real life, and I still remember every animal that once held a place in my heart with fondness. As everyone who has a dear pet will tell you, it’s heart wrenching when you have to let a pet go, as unfortunately happens several times during your own lifespan. Freddy came to mind, and how she was connected way back then to what is so essential for me now, being on the digital highway.

My dad had carrier pigeons for a hobby, participating in pigeon racing. I can imagine the question marks in your eyes, so I will tell you a little bit about what that entailed. The pigeons were taken care of and pampered all week, they could fly around the neighborhood every day and even take a bath in our garden where their special shallow pool was located. They acknowledged him as their caretaker, and knew very well all food came from him. All they had to do for him was fly back home as quick as they could when the pigeon races took place in the weekend. All throughout the Netherlands and Belgium people sort of checked in their prize pigeons on a Saturday, they were taken in big trucks to a remote places in France or even Spain and let loose there very, very early on Sunday morning. I still remember the broadcast on the radio that my father was glued to on Sunday mornings. The monotonous voice reading from a list: “Aras 5:43 am, Saint Quintain 5:34 am, Soissons, still holding”. And him, waiting to hear if the pigeons of his club had been released and at what time. Because then he knew approximately how late he would have to be in the garden, eyes on the horizon hoping to see one of his own appear and dive onto the shed where they lived. Because the races came down to mere seconds, fame could be achieved and lost again just as quickly.

By the time I lived on my own I asked my dad for a hatchling, that I could rear by hand to have her be as tame as can be. That’s how I got Frederique, or Freddy for short. She had her little box outside in my garden, free to go as she pleased all day while I was out to work. But when I came home and opened the back door, there she would be, waiting to be let in. She knew I didn’t want her to fly indoors, so she strolled to the kitchen to go and take a bath under the dripping faucet in my kitchen sink. And after that she would perch on my shoulder, or wait at her assigned place in the house until she could join me. This sounds as crazy now as it did back then, so people in my father’s club knew all about this. They were approached by an electronics company if they could deliver a tame pigeon to shoot a commercial with. Freddy and I were fast friends, so when I was asked whether I would like to do this, I happily obliged. Freddy was a champ, and performed admirably. I still have the pictures and the letter of the company, and saw my feathered friend appear in Dutch newspapers advertising thing like a router. They made the link of carrier pigeons delivering messages, while the then still young internet could do it umpteen times faster.

Our friendship ended all too soon; one day Freddy wasn’t there when I got home. I was worried, imagining birds of prey that had gotten to her; by the time it was dark I was in tears, wondering if I would ever see her again. Next day I was so relieved that she came back and acted as if nothing happened. But this was the start of the change: more and more frequently she was absent, until she didn’t come back for days on end. It still hurt, but by that time I had more or less given up on her, only to have her come backs weeks after that, this time with two young pigeons and one other that was clearly the real love of her live! I had been replaced, but I was still happy for her.