Spryte was bred to fly home, and then he didnt get to. Racing pigeons like him are hauled hundreds of miles from the only loft they know and released to find their way back. The ones who don't make it are on their own, and a domestic bird cant live the way a street pigeon does. By the time somebody found him, three years old and long gone missing, he was skin over keel bone.
His foster family fixed that with several months of good food and rest. He is back at a proper weight now, and the weight suits him — he's a big, solid bird, cream-white with cinnamon flecking scattered across his wings. The name is a joke on him at this point. Spryte is the calmest bird in the room, easy to pick up, easy to sit with, unbothered by handling in a way that makes him a genuinely good match for a first-time pigeon person. His fosters call him a gentle giant, and nobody has argued.
He needs an indoor home, like all domestic pigeons — no outdoor flight, ever, and a person of his own. Beyond that: seeds, a soft place to loaf, and someone who wants him. He's done enough navigating. Be the place he lands.
