tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6470038843410677656.post-37048632965378277922007-11-18T21:53:00.001-05:002007-12-03T23:36:26.428-05:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0ZVPZiF8r4/R0D61c6-TKI/AAAAAAAAAAs/VIJ4LM5eRB4/s1600-h/broadway_standing.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_d0ZVPZiF8r4/R0D61c6-TKI/AAAAAAAAAAs/VIJ4LM5eRB4/s320/broadway_standing.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5134379371405921442" /></a>In memory of "Broadway"  <div>A "squeaker" found under a car at Broadway &amp; Lafayette on September 4th.  He had a crushed femur, broken ankle, and crushed hip.  After splints and cage rest, he was completely healed (see photo) and released.  Two days later he returned, looking pale.  Four weeks later he died of PMV -- the pigeon virus that causes torqueing and endless spinning in circles and that, so far, has no apparent cure.  Broadway was feisty to the end, extremely vocal and always took great offense at being placed or moved.  He demanded his freedom and expressed his outrage at any minor infraction on my part.  He harumphed in a hilariously high and shrill voice and raised his eyebrows with scrutiny as if to say, "If I wanted to move from the spot I am currently sitting in, then I would do so on my own, thank you."  And so, he perched on my bookshelves and storage trunks, without interference.  He trusted me enough to bat me with his wings, knowing he could assert his will without punishment.  I miss him already.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6470038843410677656-3704863296537827792?l=pigeonlovers07.blogspot.com'/></div>Johannahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00685226131608170672noreply@blogger.com2