The Pond Went Still

This feels like something out of a novel, but it really happened today.

At lunchtime my wife, my kids, and I went to Maxwell Park in Glasgow to feed the swans and ducks. The pigeons soon gathered, as they always do, and everything felt ordinary.

Then it changed in an instant. The ducks stopped eating, pulled back, and went silent. They all stared in the same direction. That is when we saw a pigeon on the ground, struggling, its body twitching as if in seizure or badly injured. It was dying.

The way the swans and ducks reacted was haunting. They seemed to sense it before we did, and their silence gave the whole scene a heavy stillness.

As we stood there unsure of what to do, a nun and a young woman appeared around the corner. We explained what had happened. The young woman told us her sister kept chickens and that she had seen them avoid the spot where one of their flock had died. She said she had handled birds before and offered to help. Together we agreed the kindest thing was to put the pigeon out of its misery. She did it quickly and gently.

My kids knew the bird was unwell and they were worried. We shielded them from the truth and told them the girl was taking it away to help it. That was enough to reassure them, and they accepted it without further concern.

The whole episode felt surreal. The sudden silence of the pond, the dying bird, the unexpected arrival of a nun, and the young woman who knew exactly what to do. It was raw, unsettling, and strangely symbolic. It will stay with me for a long time.