The Pigeon Charmer

They are indeed, like those you see in this photograph, about sixty Pigeons who have been coming, for several years, to peck at my expense in front of the Casino of Monte-Carlo, and there is no need to ring the bell, as in the Hotels, to invite them to sit down at the table, because as far as they can see the silhouette of their benefactor, they all come flying to meet him, not only to show him their sympathy, but also and above all to receive the daily ration.
It is Mr. Panaché - a black and white - who usually leads the column. And they have become so familiar with me that they do not hesitate to settle down, some on my arms, others on my shoulders and sometimes on my hat: I can even allow myself to take a few of them in my hands and stroke them without them being frightened in the least.
I will not undertake to relate to you here all their exploits; they are too numerous and you might be angry with me for abusing the columns of the "Éclaireur du Dimanche". However, I cannot resist the desire to briefly relate to you two stories of recent date, the authenticity of which I guarantee:

One afternoon in October last, the Casino Harmony gave, on the Terraces, one of its excellent concerts in the program of which appeared in 3rd place, the well-known work of Messager, entitled "Les Deux Pigeons". The assistants, among whom I was, were applauding the execution of the second piece which had just been finished, when, at the very moment when the third, that of Messager, was about to begin, two of my winged boarders who had left their comrades, came kindly and gently to alight near me and climbed on my knees. They did not leave the Terraces until after the audition was over.

This arrival of two pigeons, no more and no less - in the middle of the concert and at the precise moment when the orchestra was beginning to play "Les Deux Pigeons" seemed so extraordinary that some people wondered if it was really due solely to chance. In any case, if chance is not an empty word, as Voltaire claimed, it must be recognized that it sometimes does things well!

Another little anecdote:
A fortnight ago, a stupid person or a madman who was, moreover, not at his first attempt, amused himself by tying together the legs of my little favorite Benjamin. The poor creature had great difficulty dragging itself along, but as its wings were free, it managed to fly and land on my hands: with the help of a compassionate person, I was able to remove its fetters and it immediately took advantage of the opportunity to go and join its companions. But a few moments later, she came back on my arm, looking at me sideways with her mischievous little eye that seemed to say: "I came to thank you, because you have a good heart."
Of course, yes, I have a good heart, and if, as Rollin says, men are, through their hearts, all they are, I believe that the Panaché family, Benjamin, Siki and Co. are not the only ones to notice it. Isn't the pleasure of making them live greater than that of making them die?

It's up to you, dear readers, to answer.

A. GEOFFROY.