THE ELUSIVE VISITOR

THE ELUSIVE VISITOR


Once upon a time there was a fancier who began to win all that was before him. Week after week his results were the talk of all his peers. Even his later arrivals would have graced most of their lofts. The fancier was happy and all was well. But the fancier did not know that a visitor had come to stay at his loft. How could he? The visitor cannot be seen, cannot be touched, cannot be smelt, cannot be bought, only when he raced did the fancier know that the visitor was there. Then just when he was about to be crowned king, the visitor suddenly left and the fancier was ordinary.
As the weeks went by he tried all he could, but still he was ordinary. He borrowed books, listened to all but still he was ordinary. There must be something wrong with the birds he thought, some sort of illness, of this he was certain. So he treated, and again and again but still he was ordinary. The birds looked no different from his glory days but his results were not the same.
One morning after he had let out the cocks cleaned fed and watered them he moved on to the hens and did the same. Quickly he dealt with the young birds before finishing off in the stock loft. As he walked to the stock loft he turned to see his wife at the window, she just smiled and turned away. He left for work with the troubles at the loft still on his mind. On his return in the evening his chores at the loft were the same, this time as he came out of the young bird loft he turned to see his wife standing at the window again, she just smiled and turned away.
Later that evening she could see something was troubling him so she asked what was wrong? “ I cannot understand what the trouble is” he replied “ The birds were doing so well but now they will not race. I’m not doing anything different, but now they are ordinary”. She smiled the smile he had seen at the window, almost as if she knew what was wrong. “ What do you know?” He asked with desperation in his voice. “ What have you seen?”
“ You” she replied. “ I have seen you. Earlier in the year, before you started your new job I watched you tend to the pigeons. Your slow approach to all you did at the loft was of someone who enjoyed every minute he could being where he was. When time was on your side each minute was cherished with your beloved birds and they knew it. Now that your time is limited you dart around so quickly you even make me feel uneasy. How do you think those birds must feel? Maybe they feel you have not got the time for them any more.
He sat on the corner of the chair realising that all his wife had just said was true. How could he have been so blind, how could he have been so foolish as to let this happen.
He went to bed that night with his thoughts working overtime but he knew that in the morning there would have to be a change. His approach to attending the birds would have to change, it would have to be as it had been before he started his new job. It meant altering his system to allow him the time he needed, but he felt comfortable knowing his time would be spent wisely. In the next few weeks he embraced every moment he had at the lofts, and his birds embraced him. Slowly his performances improved and after a few months he was crowned king. The elusive visitor had returned to his lofts, but he told no one. One night at the clubhouse members were telling stories of another fancier from a-far who had decided not to breed any young birds and was spending all his time with his old birds. His performances were fantastic. The one who had been crowned king knew that the visitor had been there to, but he told no one. They told of a partnership where each one of the partners were responsible for their part in the day to day management, allowing more time for the birds and for the small details. Their performances were phenomenal. The king knew the visitor was there to, but still he told no one, for he now knew how to make the visitor come to his loft and he must never forget. He knew that the visitor only comes to those lofts full of happiness, contentment and well being.
He went home to the loft and his beloved birds, he knew the visitor was there because he could sense him. As he sat on the bench with the young birds all around his feet, he hoped that the elusive visitor would always stay. He thought that if he stays then he should have a name, so he called him FORM.


Dennis McDermott.