“So tell me exactly what happened, from when you got in the car, until the moment of … impact.” said Terri “Tiger” Brown, investigative TV journalist. She had turned up unannounced at Barry Gray’s front door with a cameraman in tow. “Well” said Barry, middle aged raconteur and 60s-70s music fan, “I was driving along Beach Road, windows down, enjoying the summer breeze and the view of the bay. As I turned into Spoonville Road I saw these slow moving flashing lights and heard a terrible clanging noise, and these huge white things came down in front of my car.
“Was it a UFO?” said Terri, keenly anticipating an unexpected twist.
“No, the railway crossing boom gates” said Barry with a grin.
“So you were distracted by the lights and movement and noise, and smashed through the boom gates and then …” said Terri, hoping to lead him on to a confession.
“No, I came gently to a stop at the red light, waited for the train to pass, and the lights turned green, so I moved forward very slowly down Spoonville Road”.
“Why were you being so cautious if the light was green?” said Terri. “Did you have a premonition of hitting something?”
“No, I was behind a great big cement mixer” said Barry, enjoying himself immensely.
“How were you feeling at this stage?” said Terri, searching for signs of remorse.
“Feeling groovy, you know, kicking down the cobble stones”.
“So you don’t deny being under the influence?” she added, putting on her shocked and concerned face.
“That’s right. The influence of Simon and Garfunkel” said Barry. “Slow down you move too fast…. Looking for fun, and feeling groovy”.
“The influence of what?” said Terri, puzzled, but pushing for an admission of guilt and a ratings bonanza.
“Summer Breeze, makes me feel fine, blowing through the jasmine in my mind”.
“Jasmine? Asked Terri. “Is that slang for some mind altering drug?”
“You’re getting off track there, Ms. Brown. It’s Seals and Croft, 1972. I was also feeling the Sunshine of Your Love”.
“Let me assure you, Mr. Gray, I am a highly ethical journalist”.
“Well, Cream put it that way” said Barry. “Eric Clapton, Jack Bruce, Ginger Baker. “Sunshine of your love”. It was one of their big hits, you should listen to it”.
“Let’s get right to the point,” said Terri. “You can’t deny that you were not in full control of the vehicle when the accident occurred”.
“Let’s see, that’s three negatives making it a positive, or is it a negative?” replied Barry.
“I thought I was the one asking the questions here” bristled Terri.
“Well, allow me one question” said Barry. “Why did WhyNot News send their top reporter to investigate such a minor traffic incident?”
“Minor incident? Mr. Gray, I don’t think you realize the seriousness of your situation. You just killed a beautiful living, breathing …”. At this point, Terri had to take a moment while the camera zoomed in on her tears.
“Well, I can’t deny that the death occurred. But walking right in front of my car…. I couldn’t possibly have stopped”.
“Really, Mr. Gray, you took a precious life. Manslaughter at the very least”.
“What! I did accidentally run over a pigeon. It’s a shame but it’s not the end of the world. I’ve seen hawks kill and eat pigeons and no one interviewed them, accusing them of manslaughter”.
“A pigeon? Just because her name was Martha Pigeon you seem to feel entitled to dismiss her death as a minor accident.”
“Martha Pigeon did you say?”
“That’s right” said Terri. “Our sources told us she was a beautiful young female in the prime of life, struck down in a callous hit and run killing on Spoonville Road last night”.
“Sources?” said Barry.
“Yes, an anonymous caller describing the accident and saying you were the driver and the victim’s name was Martha Pigeon”.
“Ms Brown, I don’t know how to say this but I think you are the pigeon here”.
“What are you talking about?” said Terri.
“Pigeon, dupe, patsy, the victim”.
“What??”
“I used to keep pigeons so I know a bit about them. Martha was famous as the last known passenger pigeon in North America.* They were all hunted to extinction. Martha died in 1914 aged 29”.
“But you might like to talk to my next door neighbour. Gary Gray at number 28. No relation. A real prankster. This sounds like one of his practical jokes. And I happened to tell him about the pigeon accident”.
But Terri Brown didn’t hear Barry’s last words, she was already heading out on the next assignment: a report of a red-bellied snake someone found in their sock drawer. She hoped the message was right and it was “bellied” not “jellied”.
© Geoff Milton 2021
*pigeonracingpigeon.com “Famous Pigeons”
