Pigeons Don't Float!
by Jennifer C. Manion
Illustration by Leanne Franson
Of all the days of the week, Lilly liked Sundays the best. And of all the different times of the day, Lilly liked afternoons the best. So when it was Sunday and everyone had eaten their lunches, walked their dogs, somersaulted across their couch cushions, and called their grandmothers on the phone, Lilly was the happiest she could be. That’s because on Sunday afternoons, Lilly, Momma Bee, Momma Em, and Jonah went to the park.
“Lilly!” Momma Bee called one sunny Sunday afternoon. “It’s a perfect afternoon for the park. Let’s get going!”
But Lilly was already sitting on the front stoop, buckling her sandals and watching her neighbors walk by. “Hi, Mrs. Lu!” Lilly said. “We’re going to the park!”
“How lovely,” Mrs. Lu said. “Don’t forget to feed the ducks!”
“I won’t,” said Lilly. The ducks were always hungry.
Momma Bee and Momma Em settled Jonah in his stroller, tying his sunhat and tickling him under his fat double chin. Then they headed down the sidewalk to the park.
One block, two blocks, and they passed Mr. Ramirez’s grocery. “Hello, Lilly,” he said, waving a bright green pepper. “You and Jonah going to the park?”
“Yes—Jonah, the mommas, and me!” Lilly said, as they passed by his stacks of fruit and vegetables.
“Have fun,” he called after them. “Say hello to the ducks for me!”
Three blocks, three and a half. There was Mrs. Nelson, watering her flowerboxes. “Hi, Mrs. Nelson,” Lilly cried. “It’s Sunday.”
“So it is,” said Mrs. Nelson. Mrs. Nelson never said much.
“We’re going to the park,” Lilly added.
“So you are,” said Mrs. Nelson.
“The ducks should be there,” Lilly said.
“Yes, they should.” Mrs. Nelson tipped the last drop of water out of the watering can.
“Have a nice day!” Lilly called out as they passed Mrs. Nelson’s building.
“Thank you, Lilly,” Mrs. Nelson said, waving a daisy. Momma Em took Lilly’s hand, and Momma Bee pushed Jonah.
Just ahead, the gates of the park were wide open. The whole neighborhood seemed to be there riding bikes, throwing balls, playing tag, and whizzing by on skateboards.
“You’ll need some popcorn for the ducks,” Momma Em said. “Take this dollar, Lilly—there’s Bert.”
Today, Bert had on the red-and-white striped top hat, which matched the red-and-white paper popcorn bags and a funny, ruffled, red apron. “Why, there you are, Lilly my girl,” Bert said, grinning and throwing his arms open wide. “And what would you like today—a big bag or a small bag?”
“Oh, a big bag, please,” Lilly said, handing over the dollar. “Isn’t it a great day for feeding the ducks?”
“A fine day, Lilly, the best of days. And you’re just the girl to do it. Here’s your popcorn,” Bert said, handing Lilly the striped bag full of fluffy, white popcorn. “How are you and Jonah? How are the mommas?” he asked, taking off his hat and waving it at Momma Bee and Momma Em.
“We are great,” Lilly said. “I bet the ducks are hungry, Bert. See you later!”
Momma Bee spread out a blanket under their favorite tree, Momma Em slipped Jonah into a kiddy swing, and Lilly ran down to the edge of the pond. There were the ducks. Some ducks were paddling in circles in front of her. Some were napping under the bushes that hung just above the water. “Hello, ducks,” Lilly said softly, tossing a big handful of popcorn into the water. “Are you hungry?”
The ducks scrambled and dove after the popcorn, snapping their bills and smack, smack, smacking the water into tiny waves. “Hey, you greedy birds,” Lilly said, laughing. “Save some for the others.” And she sprinkled a few pieces of popcorn under the low-hanging branches.
Smack! went one bill. Smack, smack! went another. And then … peck, peck, peck. Lilly couldn’t believe her eyes. Out from under the bush bobbed not a duck, not even a baby duck, but a pigeon, a full-grown, blue-grey pigeon. As the pigeon pecked, the popcorn piece floated further and further away. But the pigeon didn’t give up. It paddled with its skinny little pigeon legs, trying to catch up.
“A pigeon—floating!” Lilly dropped her popcorn bag in surprise, turned around, and ran toward the mommas.
“Momma Bee! Momma Em! I saw a pigeon!”
Momma Bee laughed. “Of course you did. We’re in the park. That’s where the pigeons live, silly.”
“No,” Lilly said. “I mean floating. The pigeon was floating! In the water! Like a duck! Well, sort of like a duck.”
Momma Em came over with Jonah in her arms. “Pigeons? Floating? Pigeons don’t float. Do pigeons float, Jonah?” Momma Em asked.
Jonah burbled and spluttered and said, “Mmmmmah, oooooo.”
“Nope,” Momma Em said. “Jonah says that pigeons don’t float. They just coo.”
“Momma Bee?” asked Momma Em.
“I don’t think they float either,” said Momma Bee, shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head.
“Come with me,” Lilly said, grabbing her mommas’ hands, and they all walked down to the duck pond.
There was the red-and-white striped bag, but there was no popcorn, and the ducks were scattered all over the water. No floating pigeon anywhere.
“I saw it,” Lilly said, turning around and around. “And it was floating!” But the only pigeons nearby were pecking at the pavement next to the fountain.
“Maybe you only thought you saw it,” Momma Bee said, kneeling down next to Lilly. “Pigeons just don’t float. Let’s go have a snack, and then we’ll head home.”
The next day in school, Lilly asked her teacher, who always seemed to know everything, if pigeons could float. “Well … ,” Ms. Kelly said. “They do seem to float a bit when they are landing. So I suppose you can say that pigeons float.”
“No,” said Lilly. “I mean in water. You know, like a duck.”
Ms. Kelly looked puzzled and then waggled her finger at Lilly. “Oh no, dear, pigeons don’t float. Pigeons and ducks are entirely different kinds of birds.”
“I saw it,” Lilly thought. “And it was floating. I know pigeons float.”
On the way home from school, Lilly passed Mrs. Nelson, who was patting down the dirt in her window boxes and fluffing up her flowers’ leaves.
“Mrs. Nelson,” Lilly called. “Ducks float, right?”
“Right,” said Mrs. Nelson.
“And pigeons float, right?” Lilly asked.
“No,” said Mrs. Nelson, snipping a daisy and handing it to Lilly.
“Never?”
“Never.”
“Oh,” said Lilly, twirling her daisy. “Well … have a nice day, Mrs. Nelson.”
“Thank you, Lilly,” Mrs. Nelson said as Lilly slowly walked away.
When Lilly passed Mr. Ramirez’s grocery, Mr. Ramirez was busy stacking apples into bright red pyramids. “Hi, Mr. Ramirez,” Lilly said. “Do you know anything about pigeons?”
Mr. Ramirez placed the last apple on the very top of the pyramid. “Sure, sure, Lilly, I know pigeons. Pigeons are funny birds, aren’t they?”
“But do they float?” Lilly asked. “You know, like ducks?”
“Ha, like a duck? You are so funny, Lilly!”
“I’m serious, Mr. Ramirez.”
“Well, Lilly, I’ve never seen a floating pigeon. I’ve seen them peck, and I’ve seen them chase other pigeons. I’ve even seen them sleep on the head of the statue in the park, and I’ve seen them walk like this—” Mr. Ramirez puffed out his chest, hooked his thumbs under his arms, and took giant steps up and down the sidewalk. Circling back he said, “But I’ve never seen them float. No, pigeons don’t float.”
Lilly nodded sadly. Even Mr. Ramirez’s silly walk couldn’t make Lilly smile. “That’s what I thought you’d say.”
“Here, Lilly, take home some apples for you, Jonah, and the mommas. A present from your friend, Mr. Ramirez.” And bowing, he handed her a bag with four shiny apples.
“Thanks, Mr. Ramirez,” Lilly said, taking the bag. “See you.”
Lilly shuffled the rest of the way home and plopped down on the stoop just as Mrs. Lu came down the steps. “Hello, Lilly,” Mrs. Lu said. “Why do you look so sad?”
“Pigeons,” Lilly said.
“Oh, my,” said Mrs. Lu, looking worried.
“I’m trying to find out if pigeons float,” Lilly added. “I mean … I think they do. Do you?”
“Wouldn’t that be lovely?” asked Mrs. Lu, clapping her hands together. “But of course, pigeons don’t float. They splash in the fountain in the park, and they wade through puddles after it rains, and they visit the birdbath in Mrs. Nelson’s garden, but they definitely don’t float.”
“Yes, lovely,” muttered Lilly, looking sadder than ever. Lilly got up to go inside.
“I hope you cheer up, Lilly. You can always imagine that pigeons float!”
“I suppose,” Lilly said. “Bye, Mrs. Lu.” Lilly opened the big front door and closed it behind her.
The next Sunday was another perfect park day. When the afternoon finally arrived, Momma Bee and Momma Em packed up the stroller, tucked in Jonah, and took Lilly by the hand. Off they all headed to the park.
One block, two blocks. Momma Bee said, “Lilly, why are you walking so slowly? Don’t you want to go to the park?”
“Is something the matter?” Momma Em asked.
“No, nothing’s the matter,” Lilly said, still dragging her feet.
Three blocks, four blocks. The park was full of people, bikes, skateboards, and sunshine. “Here we are,” said Momma Em. “Lilly, should we get some popcorn for the ducks? There’s Bert.”
“No, not today,” Lilly said. “I don’t feel like feeding the ducks.”
“Are you sure?” asked Momma Bee as they headed for their favorite tree.
“I’m sure,” Lilly said. Momma Bee spread out the blanket and Momma Em took Jonah out of the stroller. She said, “We’re going to the swings. Do you want to come, Lilly?”
“I don’t fit in the kiddy swings,” she said, frowning. “I’ll play by myself.” And she turned and walked away.
“Don’t go far,” Momma Bee called after her. “Stay where we can see you!”
Lilly sat down by the edge of the duck pond, her chin on her knees. The ducks paddled in the water, quacking, splashing, and chasing one another. She saw the soft brown ducks, and the glossy green ducks, but no pigeon. “I must have imagined it,” she said to herself. “I guess pigeons don’t float.”
Just then, Lilly felt a hand on her shoulder, and there was Bert, in his ruffled apron, holding a big bag of fluffy popcorn. “Lilly my girl, I think you forgot this,” Bert said, handing her the warm, red-and-white striped bag.
“I didn’t forget, Bert,” Lilly said, taking the bag anyway.
“Why, what’s the matter?” Bert asked, sitting down next to Lilly.
“Last week when I was feeding the ducks, a pigeon was floating right here, just like a duck. But no one believes me, Bert, not even my mommas! Everyone says that pigeons don’t float. And now I just don’t know … I thought I saw a pigeon float, but I’m not sure. Do you think I made it up? Do you think pigeons can float?
Bert at quietly for a moment, put his arm around Lilly’s shoulder, and said, “You know, Lilly, I DO believe you.”
Lilly turned to Bert and smiled for the first time in a week. “You do?”
“Yes, I do,” said Bert. “Sometimes expected things happen, and sometimes unexpected things happen. You just never know.”
“What do you mean?” Lilly asked.
“Well, every morning the sun comes up, even when it’s cloudy, right?” Bert asked.
“Right,” said Lilly.
“So that’s what we expect. It always happens. But sometimes things happen that we don’t expect. Do you remember when it snowed last July? That was unexpected! And remember when you said that your mommas were going to have another girl, since they had you? But then Jonah came. He was unexpected. We’ve all seen ducks float. That’s expected. But had you ever seen a pigeon float before last week?” Bert asked.
“No!” said Lilly. “That’s why I was so surprised!”
“Exactly,” Bert said. “It was—”
“—unexpected,” they said together.
“And just because something is unexpected doesn’t mean it can’t happen. It just doesn’t happen often. You were extra lucky, Lilly my girl, to see that pigeon float. Maybe you’ll be lucky today, too,” Bert said, standing up and fixing the ruffles on his apron. “Just keep your eyes open! You never know what you’ll see.”
“I will, Bert. Thanks for believing me.” Lilly waved as Bert turned, his ruffles bouncing.
Lilly tossed popcorn to the ducks, laughing as they dove and splashed. And even though she didn’t see the floating pigeon, she skipped back to her mommas and Jonah, a grin on her face.
“Look at you,” Momma Em said. “What have you been up to?”
“Oh, you know,” Lilly said. “Just keeping my eyes open, looking for the unexpected.”
Jennifer C. Manion is a writer, editor, poet, and philosopher. A group of first-graders who read picture books with her during “The Philosopher’s Corner” inspired her to write stories for children. She hopes her stories encourage kids to think big thoughts about the wide, wide world. She lives in Minneapolis with her partner, Carla, and two mischievous cats. 
Leanne Franson lives in Montréal, Québec, Canada, where she draws in her home studio with her two cats and a Saint Bernard. She writes and draws comics when she is not illustrating the words of other authors. You can see her illustrations for children at http://leannefranson.com. She had lots of hamsters when she was small, and loves to take time off and travel to exciting new places.
