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As I was writing “The Invention of Everything Else” I started to pay very close attention to the pigeons in my neighborhood. At times, they would even influence my editorial decisions. If I’d spent a day revising and then went outside and saw a sick and mangled bird I took that to mean that perhaps I should reconsider the work I’d just done. But if I went outside and saw a bird with bright, healthy pink feet or a gorgeous flock circling overhead then I thought I’d done a good job.

So last week I got into a pickle. I found a pigeon wing on the sidewalk outside my house. With no pigeon attached. Ugh. While some might be able to take that as a good omen, I could not. It seems birds really need their wings in order to be birds. I thought I’d better take care of this lost wing. But what to do? I couldn’t make it fly through the air again. My daughter and I took the wing down to Red Hook with us on a walk. The Queen Mary 2 was in port and the harbor at Valentino Pier was bright white in the sun light. The area by the pier was once known as Fort Defiance and in August 1776, when the British had 400 ships in New York harbor, this fort was crucial in helping Washington and his troops escape to safety. The Staten Island Ferry passed by while my daughter and I stood by the water. Swimming seems almost as good as flying. We set the wing adrift on the sea.