It's just about breeding season. I can hear it in my husband Scott's heavy breathing every time he looks out the window at his pigeon coop. He anticipates breeding season more than a bridegroom does his wedding night. I don't know whether to be jealous or relieved when it finally gets here.

I should have known what to expect from my husband. After all, Scott first proposed to me in a manure pit at our agricultural high school 25 years ago. That beautiful mixture of manure from cows, sheep, chickens and turkeys all mingled together creating promise of a future full of love and offspring. Oh, and pigeons.

White Indian Fantail pigeons. Scott's pigeon loft is a miniature of the Anuszczyk's house. Donna says, "Nothing but the best for these pigeons." Scott also raises a Polish chicken, some Silkies, parakeets and a rabbit. White Indian Fantail pigeons. A Kite Indian Fantail pigeon. Besides the lovely fan-shaped tail this breed is named for, the Indian Fantail also has feathered feet. The thick fluffy tail has 30 to 40 feathers, while most pigeon breeds have 12 to 14 feathers. Scott's Red Splash Indian Fantail pigeon. Wall-e is an Almond Fantail pigeon named by the Anuszczyk's grandson.

Out in his pigeon coop, fancy Indian Fantails, separated by a wall down the middle for the winter, blindly court each other. I almost feel sorry for them as they try desperately to peek through any crack or opening just for a glimpse at their future mate, but it's not time yet.

The countdown continues. My husband is equally eager to get the birds together, for he is dying to see what offspring he can create by pairing certain ones with each other. In the meantime, he waits. I don't know who wants it more, him or the pigeons.

Each night after work, Scott asks me about the pigeons as if they were in daycare. Did I feed them? Did I change the water? Yes, yes, of course, twice in fact. Each morning at 8:00 I'm out there bringing pigeons fresh food and water and each evening at 4:00 I repeat my chores. Whose pigeons are these anyway? Well, because I'm home most of the day, and Scott works long hours, oh, and because I love him, I help take care of these creatures.

Scott brings me flowers to show his appreciation, but then they aren't even in water yet when he gives me a peck on the cheek and rushes out to the pigeon coop. He scrapes and rakes every last dropping and every last feather. On Saturdays he wakes up smiling—not because it's a day off or because I wake up beside him—but because Saturday is pigeon coop cleaning day.

If it's above 40 degrees Fahrenheit, he draws a nice warm bath for the birds and sprinkles it with bath salts to keep their feathers conditioned. (I can't remember the last time he drew a nice hot bath for me, sprinkling it with bath salts.) He shoos the pigeons outside into their pens, where they splash and play in the water, while Scott thoroughly gives the pigeon coop a good cleaning. He even vacuums! This is definitely true love.

He fell in love with Indian Fantails several springs ago. At a pigeon buddy's house, a beautiful pure white Fantail caught his fancy. It was one among many, but it was clearly the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen, (besides me of course). It's wings flapped the air with the grace of a dove from heaven, and he knew he had to have it. Its feathers were of pure white with not a fleck of color or a spot of soil. Its head smooth, its crown defined. The wings feathered back to meet the spread of its fanned-out tail. It certainly was a beauty, strutting the yard like a proud Indian in headdress.

Oh, he had other pigeons back home, but none as pure and beautiful as this one. They paled in comparison on all levels. But then isn't that how it is when one first falls in love? The flaws are invisible, only beauty and grace are seen. He admired the way it carried itself, head high, yet shy in some way. Yes, this was true love.

It was a monumental moment, one that brought change in the pigeon coop. Out with the old, in with the new. Little by little he weeded out the old breeds and filled the coop with Indian Fantails. Carefully, he researched what colors would yield what color, so that he may begin his journey of developing show quality birds that will leave the competitors whispering in corners. He is a legend, my husband, if only in his own mind at the moment.

He stares out the window listening to the pigeons' soft cooing. He turns the calendar over one month at a time. He counts, he waits, he counts some more. He tells me what day he'll worm them and then in 10 more days he'll worm them again. He tells me this twice a week. He reads the latest issue of Backyard Poultry a second time. He researches the Internet, and sends e-mails to his pigeon buddies. He dusts off brand new empty nest bowls that await occupancy, as do the string of silver bands that hang like a necklace on a nail. I feel as bad for my husband as I do for the pigeons. He waits like a bridegroom on his wedding night. He waits for another breeding season. And I do, too, for the sake of Scott, because I love him and he still loves me, even if I don't strut my stuff as I did 25 years ago.

You can find more information about pigeon care, feeding, housing, organizations, and special considerations at www.foyspigeonsupplies.com.