Bill and Coo. Mazo de la Roche

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       BILL AND COO

       BILL AND COO

       by

       Mazo de la Roche

       Illustrated by Eileen A. Soper

       Copyright © Mazo de la Roche 1958

      ATLANTIC—LITTLE, BROWN BOOKS

       ARE PUBLISHED BY

       LITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY

       IN ASSOCIATION WITH

       THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY PRESS

      Not many springs ago two beautiful pigeons met on the roof of a very old house. The roof was so sloping that it was hard for them to keep their foothold. They kept on slipping and sliding downward towards the moss-grown eaves. It was then that she noticed what beautiful feet he had. They were the colour of the finest coral. She was so full of admiration for them that she exclaimed:

      ‘Coo!’

      He bowed politely and turned round in front of her, just to show her his plumage that shone like polished metal in the sunlight. When she saw the changeful shades of his collar she again exclaimed:

      ‘Coo!’

      Again he bowed and turned round in front of her.

      But even while he turned he noticed the lovely whiteness of her plumage, with just a few black feathers in wings and tail.

      Now standing close together he asked:

      ‘What is your name?’

      ‘Coo,’ she answered in her sweet voice.

      ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I always thought Coo was rather common, but since it is your name I like it.’

      She bowed to him and her golden eyes sparkled.

      ‘And what is your name?’ she enquired.

      ‘Bill,’ he answered, on a deep note.

      ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘I always thought Bill was rather common, but since it’s your name I like it.’

      So, in the warm spring sunlight, they sat billing and cooing together.

      After a while they decided to build a nest.

      They chose a place in the shelter of a gable and he worked hard for several days carrying twigs to her which she proudly arranged with her beak. A pair of robins building a nest nearby thought the pigeons’ nest very rough indeed as compared with their handsome nest, but the pigeons thought it was perfect. Then one day Coo laid an egg in it. Then she laid another. Bill was so proud that he turned round and round showing off in front of her and the eggs, but she was too busy keeping the eggs warm to admire him, and the eggs were too busy with what was going on inside their shells.

      The house was owned by an old couple named Dullard who hated all birds but especially pigeons. Dirty creatures, they called them, and if they could have reached the nest they would have torn it down. They stared up at it in hate and the man actually threw a stone at Bill when he saw him turning round to show off. But the stone hit the roof, bounced back and struck Mr. Dullard on the forehead. He cried out with the pain of it and the pigeons peered down at him in wonder.

      The roof of this house leaked. The chimneys smoked. The windows rattled. When it rained there was a flood of water in the cellar. The Dullards had a daughter but she had left home because she had been so unhappy. Yet when she was born her mother had named her Joy. Everything went wrong with the Dullards but they never blamed themselves for their misfortunes.

      One lovely day two fledglings were hatched in the nest. Coo felt the eggs stirring under her breast. She heard small sounds and snuggled the eggs closer and closer. As for Bill, he said her dear name over and over from morning to night, he was so full of pride.

      That night a change came over the sky. A great purple cloud, heavy with rain, was blown in from the east and before long the rain fell in torrents. All the night long it rained and rained. The two pigeons spread their wings over the nestlings, but the rain was so heavy that, in spite of all their efforts, the young ones were washed out of the nest and fell to the cold ground far below. When the grey light of morning came, Bill saw the two little naked bodies lying there and he said, with a moan:

      ‘See what has happened, Coo. Our two babies are dead. Drowned. . . . drowned. . . . drowned.’

      But Coo would not look. She could not believe in such a terrible misfortune. She snuggled the few wet twigs that were all that was left of the nest, and moaned:

      ‘No . . . no . . . no. I won’t believe it. My birdlings are not down there. They are safe under my wing.’

      But Bill knew better. He peered down and saw Mr. Dullard pick up the cold little bodies and carry them off to show his wife.

      ‘Two pigeons fewer to annoy us,’ he gloated. ‘I wish they all were drowned.’

      The robins too had hatched their young, but so well built was their nest and so sheltered, that it withstood the storm. Their nestlings were safe. Bill and Coo were envious as they saw the robins flying to and fro carrying fat worms to their nestlings.