Daniel and I met back in 2003 via an online chat group called Pigeon Talk. This was before Facebook, and back then I only frequented bird-specific chat groups, not general social media. Pigeon Talk really felt like a community, and I became friends in real life with a few of the California members, as I lived in San Jose (the city of my birth) at the time. I had loved birds for as long as I could remember and had always kept pet birds, including a few pigeons when I was a teenager.
In the fall of 2000, I found a lost domestic roller pigeon in our yard. That kicked off a renewed passion for pigeons that culminated in me raising and showing fancy pigeons, as well as fostering and adopting some rescued ones. As it turns out, Daniel had a pigeon come into his life around the same time, so we had that in common. Pretty soon we were trading messages, then phone numbers, then he came down from Berkeley to visit us in San Jose.
We quickly became fast friends, with our passion for pigeons and our Christian faith in common. We had many long, philosophical conversations about faith, pets, and the intersection of our faith and our love for animals, especially birds. I found Daniel to be intelligent, sensitive, and just quirky enough to be interesting. He was gentle but he always told you the truth, not necessarily what you wanted to hear. I respected him for that.
Daniel and I had a number of pigeons in common over the years, sometimes trading them back and forth. The most notable was Gabriel, a pure white garden fantail Daniel raised from his original, beloved white fantail pair. He gave Gabriel to me in 2003, and the bird became a treasured pet in our family.
Gabriel eventually paired off with Angie, an adorable little pied fantail we adopted from a local animal shelter in 2007. Like Gabriel, she was extremely tame and friendly. They were a devoted pair and seemed made for each other.
My husband, Steve, does woodworking and once made a set of nest boxes for Daniel, who had built an aviary adjacent to his apartment. Sometimes he came down to visit us—and Gabriel. We shared advice and comforted each other following the loss of this or that pigeon to illness or accident. To us, these birds were not “just pigeons,” but treasured feathered friends who were also family members. In that way, Daniel and I got each other.
Unfortunately, my lungs rebelled against my bird-keeping obsession, and I was diagnosed with hypersensitivity pneumonitis (bird fancier’s lung) in early 2014. All our cage birds had to go, as did the pigeons. The beautiful pigeon loft Steve had built me would soon be empty and silent. I was heartbroken. Daniel eased the pain a little bit by taking Gabriel and Angie, ensuring that they would have a home where they were loved as pets, not livestock (I was forced to give most of my pigeons to a breeder, and most of them later perished in an accidental fire).
I went back to college in mid-life, and Daniel attended my graduation party. When circumstances forced us to move away in 2016, he brought Gabriel down for one last visit before we left (Angie had already passed on). That was the last time I saw him, as we rarely visit California now and when we do, it’s only briefly to see our remaining family in the South Bay. I wish I’d seen him again.
We did stay in touch after we moved to Washington, and I last spoke with Daniel after his surgery this spring. I was alarmed by his physical challenges but promised to pray for him, which we both did. I knew what a soul-crushing blow it was for him to lose his pigeons for good. He said to me many times over the years, “My birds are my life.”
I firmly believe that God answers all of our prayers for healing, but some healing can only happen in His presence. I’m sorrowful that I will never see my friend Daniel again this side of eternity, but do not grieve “as those who have no hope,” but with the confidence that I’ll see him again. Rest in peace, Daniel. --Cathy Kendall
