All his cares and sorrows were bound up in the lives of the
birds. In fact it seemed as though he himself became birdlike. He could
flap his arms to his sides and produce that same dull penetrating note
that was given only to this particular species of bird when they flapped
their wings.

At an early age he was left without parents and managed to grow up among
the horses and cows in the barns. But these larger animals were entirely
out of his sphere--he did not understand them.

One day when the lad was about seven years old, the village folks
suddenly noticed that he was lame. When asked about it, all he would
reply was: "The pigeons made me lame."

Luba, a farmer's fat cook, once told at the market-place how Peter
became lame. She told of how the boy stood on the roof of her master's
barn flapping his arms in imitation of the birds encircling his head;
how he sprang in the air in a mad attempt to fly, and fell to the
ground. But Luba had a reputation for being a liar, and none believed
her although all enjoyed listening. "Such good imagination," they would
say, after she was gone.

Peter grew up a little lame, but this defect seemed only to add to his
nimbleness. He could climb a telegraph pole sideways like a parrot
walking up a stick. Once on top he would swing his good leg around the
cross beam and wave his hat--and from below a flight of flapping and
fluttering birds would arise.

In this way he lived and grew to the age of sixteen, although his small,
protruding bones and round, child-like eyes kept him looking younger.
Where he slept and where he ate, all remained a mystery to the village
folk; but this mystery was not near as great as another--

The schoolmaster once noticed that at times the pigeons seemed all grey,
and at other times the greater number of them carried large pink
breasts; also at times there were few, while on other days the streets
and market-place were thickly dotted with nodding, pecking birds; also
that never could they find the very young ones.

It seemed as though only Peter knew the secret--but when asked about it
he would show a silly grin and shy away, pretending to be much occupied
chasing the birds that ever flocked about him.

He would travel about from barn to barn collecting the feed that fell
from the bins of careless animals. He would sometimes travel along the
back yards, twist his mouth and call to nobody in particular: "A few
crumbs for the birdies, lady?" And prese