SEVEN

A young pigeon defies his flock by being himself.

The meaning of home is twofold for pigeons; it’s a noun referring to family and flock but also a verb: to home, or find one’s way back. Home becomes a fraught situation for Seven, who’s seen as different from the beginning. Though pigeons usually hatch in pairs, Seven’s mother lays only a single egg. The catty flock gossips about him: “There is only one!” The other pigeons stick together, eating crumbs, but Seven prefers to dine on fragrant grains of rice. And while other pigeons build nests out of twigs and straw, Seven relies on rose petals; he loves their scent. When his father tries to teach him homing skills—and to make a mental map of the roads below—Seven’s strong sense of smell leads him off-course; his mother scolds him. The flock’s inevitable comeuppance arrives during the “Big Flight,” their annual 7,000-mile journey together. Fog scrambles the flock’s mental maps, while Seven sniffs his way over trees and toward their city. As Seven leads them home, his unique abilities are finally appreciated. Seven, a charming pigeon with a nose for beauty, appears dapper in Sicuro’s gentle, digitally assembled watercolor, gouache, and ink spreads. The other pigeons’ scraggly feet and big eyes convey both haughtiness and exuberance as they perch or fly through the gentle pastels of an unnamed vintage-styled, racially diverse European-esque city.

An uplifting tale that celebrates difference.