Talos

Talos does not know he is a bird. He's quite sure he's one of us.<br/><br/>He was hand-raised by someone who meant well, then released the way you'd release a healthy wild bird back to the sky. But Talos was never wild. Pigeons imprint hard on whoever raises them, and a baby brought up around people with no other birds in the house grows up certain he's a person too. So when he was let loose in downtown Elgin, he did the only thing he understood: he ran after every human who passed, trotting down the sidewalk, pleading to be picked up. Volunteer Christina spotted him chasing strangers and brought him in. He's safe now.<br/><br/>His namesake was the bronze guardian of Greek myth who circled the island of Crete to keep it safe. This Talos circles *you*. He'll trail you from room to room, hop up to ride on your shoulder, and claim the top of your head as his personal lookout.<br/><br/>He's a handsome little thing, too: near-black, with a throat that flashes electric green into violet when the light hits it, soft slate over the wings, and bright coral-pink feet. What he needs is simple but real. People, almost always. Talos is happiest with near-constant company: a retiree, someone who works from home, a full and busy household - anyone whose rooms usually have a person in them. Left alone for long stretches, a bird this bonded to humans gets genuinely lonely. If your home is rarely empty, Talos has already decided he's yours!

Talos does not know he is a bird. He's quite sure he's one of us.

He was hand-raised by someone who meant well, then released the way you'd release a healthy wild bird back to the sky. But Talos was never wild. Pigeons imprint hard on whoever raises them, and a baby brought up around people with no other birds in the house grows up certain he's a person too. So when he was let loose in downtown Elgin, he did the only thing he understood: he ran after every human who passed, trotting down the sidewalk, pleading to be picked up. Volunteer Christina spotted him chasing strangers and brought him in. He's safe now.

His namesake was the bronze guardian of Greek myth who circled the island of Crete to keep it safe. This Talos circles *you*. He'll trail you from room to room, hop up to ride on your shoulder, and claim the top of your head as his personal lookout.

He's a handsome little thing, too: near-black, with a throat that flashes electric green into violet when the light hits it, soft slate over the

Talos does not know he is a bird. He's quite sure he's one of us.

He was hand-raised by someone who meant well, then released the way you'd release a healthy wild bird back to the sky. But Talos was never wild. Pigeons imprint hard on whoever raises them, and a baby brought up around people with no other birds in the house grows up certain he's a person too. So when he was let loose in downtown Elgin, he did the only thing he understood: he ran after every human who passed, trotting down the sidewalk, pleading to be picked up. Volunteer Christina spotted him chasing strangers and brought him in. He's safe now.

His namesake was the bronze guardian of Greek myth who circled the island of Crete to keep it safe. This Talos circles *you*. He'll trail you from room to room, hop up to ride on your shoulder, and claim the top of your head as his personal lookout.

He's a handsome little thing, too: near-black, with a throat that flashes electric green into violet when the light hits it, soft slate over the wings, and bright coral-pink feet. What he needs is simple but real. People, almost always. Talos is happiest with near-constant company: a retiree, someone who works from home, a full and busy household - anyone whose rooms usually have a person in them. Left alone for long stretches, a bird this bonded to humans gets genuinely lonely. If your home is rarely empty, Talos has already decided he's