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Synopsis

I was fascinated, flattered when the carrier pigeon kited down to my wicker porch swing. He was wearing a gold band above his right claw encircling a white paper scrap. I held out my hand for him to give me my message. He jittered and squawked. So I went inside for some dry grits to use as a bribe. While he ate I phoned an expert on such birds. He said, "Whatever you do don't feed him grits..."

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