Soaring Pastime

Mohammed learned how to train pigeons from his dad, who used to fly them on this very roof in the capital8217;s oldest neighborhood, where the only color on the palette is brown. 8216;8216;The roofs are the same. The cages are the same. They8217;re all made of mud,8217;8217; says Mohammed Ismail, 32, as he watches his older brother work. 8216;8216;But somehow, the birds know as well as we do which one is theirs.8217;8217;

The routine varies little from day to day. After spending the morning in his shop, Mohammed comes home and lets loose his collection of 28 pigeons. At first he just watches them circle, and whistles. It is a piercing cry, high enough to make a child on the other side of the roof stick fingers in her ears. Mohammed whistles again. And again. Then he goes for his net. He wields the net, which extends from the end of a six-foot pole, like a fly fisherman casting a lure. But the goal is not to haul the pigeons in. It is to widen the gyre, to send them flying a little farther from home. So out they go. Past the nearest mosque, where the call to prayer is sounding. Out near the presidential palace, where an Afghan flag flaps in the breeze. Up against the barren hills, which serve as prelude to the snow-capped peaks beyond.

There are at least six flocks of pigeons flying in Kabul today, and as Mohammed8217;s birds wander farther afield, they merge with someone else8217;s. Together, they are mere specks on the horizon, flying directly into a setting sun. But they haven8217;t lost sight of home. In a flash, Mohammed drops the net and grabs his only pigeon who never flies8212;a white female with a black nose who is, evidently, quite a catch. He holds her skyward, and her clipped wings sound like a balky lawn mower as they flap furiously, and futilely. Three seconds is all it takes. The flock, predominantly male, is already on its way back. As the flock nears, hope dawns in Mohammed8217;s eyes. All 28 of his pigeons are coming, plus one.

Another man8217;s bird has become confused, and joined Mohammed8217;s flock. He sees the newcomer instantly. 8216;8216;I know my pigeons very, very well,8217;8217; he says. This is the moment he lives for. Based on the unwritten code of Afghan pigeon owners, if a stray bird lands on his roof, there are two options. Either Mohammed gets to keep it, or he can sell it back to the rightful owner for whatever the pigeon is worth8212;some go for as much as 5008212;plus a finder8217;s fee.

Mohammed has tried to quit pigeon-flying. Fifteen times in as many years, he has sold the whole flock. And each time, a few of the birds return. Mohammed buys more to keep them company. For a while, it looked like the Taliban would help him quit: They banned the sport. But Mohammed8217;s birds kept flying, just a bit more stealthily than before. At this point, it is doubtful he will ever be without pigeons. Ismail, the younger brother, certainly hopes not. 8216;8216;When I see the pigeons,8217;8217; he says, 8216;8216;my soul gets refreshed. They8217;re beautiful.8217;8217;

The Washington Post