Rowen

In June, on a curb in Lincoln Square, Rowen could not get up onto the sidewalk. Six inches of concrete, and a young red pigeon stumbling along the gutter beneath it, trying and failing to make the step. Whatever brought him down had taken his legs out from under him, and a bird who can't get off the street in Chicago doesn't get many more days.<br/><br/>He's fully recovered now! Cleared, healthy, no lasting effects, and apparently determined to make up every inch of the altitude he lost. Rowen flies. Not laps around a perch, either — he goes up, and he stays up, and he'd like the ceiling to be higher.<br/><br/>He's a red bird in the literal sense: the Gaelic root behind his name means red, and he's exactly that. Deep chestnut over his head and shoulders, warming into a soft apricot across his wing shields and tail, a few white feathers scattered at his flank, and a pale pink beak. Domestic pigeons like Rowen aren't built for street life. That's why he was on the curb, and it's why he needs a home rather than a release.<br/><br/>Rowen wears pigeon pants comfortably, which opens up the whole house to him. What he needs is an adopter with real flying room — a space he can cross at speed, a high place to land, and no objection to a bird passing overhead at eye level. If you've got the airspace, he's got the flight plan!

In June, on a curb in Lincoln Square, Rowen could not get up onto the sidewalk. Six inches of concrete, and a young red pigeon stumbling along the gutter beneath it, trying and failing to make the step. Whatever brought him down had taken his legs out from under him, and a bird who can't get off the street in Chicago doesn't get many more days.

He's fully recovered now! Cleared, healthy, no lasting effects, and apparently determined to make up every inch of the altitude he lost. Rowen flies. Not laps around a perch, either — he goes up, and he stays up, and he'd like the ceiling to be higher.

He's a red bird in the literal sense: the Gaelic root behind his name means red, and he's exactly that. Deep chestnut over his head and shoulders, warming into a soft apricot across his wing shields and tail, a few white feathers scattered at his flank, and a pale pink beak. Domestic pigeons like Rowen aren't built for street life. That's why he was on the curb, and it's why he needs a home rather than a release.
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In June, on a curb in Lincoln Square, Rowen could not get up onto the sidewalk. Six inches of concrete, and a young red pigeon stumbling along the gutter beneath it, trying and failing to make the step. Whatever brought him down had taken his legs out from under him, and a bird who can't get off the street in Chicago doesn't get many more days.

He's fully recovered now! Cleared, healthy, no lasting effects, and apparently determined to make up every inch of the altitude he lost. Rowen flies. Not laps around a perch, either — he goes up, and he stays up, and he'd like the ceiling to be higher.

He's a red bird in the literal sense: the Gaelic root behind his name means red, and he's exactly that. Deep chestnut over his head and shoulders, warming into a soft apricot across his wing shields and tail, a few white feathers scattered at his flank, and a pale pink beak. Domestic pigeons like Rowen aren't built for street life. That's why he was on the curb, and it's why he needs a home rather than a release.

Rowen wears pigeon pants comfortably, which opens up the whole house to him. What he needs is an adopter with real flying room — a space he can cross at speed, a high place to land, and no objection to a bird passing overhead at eye level. If you've got the airspace, he's got the flight plan!