Just a couple of short weeks ago, these little rascals were eggs. Now they’re looking distinctly bird-like, and almost ready for action. Pete, who has sired bred reared (?) them has already put rings on their legs, which will be used to identify them when they arrive back before the rest of the pack flock posse (?) to win the grand prize. Before they are able to fly, they will be taken from the flower pot that they seem to be living in, to the loft which will be their permanent home. (Apparently, they will always return to the place they first fly from, so it’s fairly important that they start of from the right place, otherwise we could have a problem.)

Once they are fully grown, they will be kitted out in little flying suits, helmets and goggles, to prepare them for their maiden flight, which will be under the wise guidance of an old, grey-feathered pigeon called Frobisher, a veteran of many wars, in which he was decorated on several occasions for selfless acts of bravery and derring-do. Then….

Sorry, I came over all Disney for a moment there. But seriously, it’s an interesting fact that pigeons have been given more awards for bravery than any other type of animal. Look at this one, for example – Paddy, a pigeon from Northern Ireland, who won a medal for bringing home news of the D-Day landings. (I wonder of he could fly while wearing his medal? Was it made especially light?) Evidently, once the Germans realised the importance of our feathered friends to the Allied war effort, they stationed hawks at Calais to intercept them. How times have changed. But the question that all this raises for me is, can a pigeon actually be brave? Isn’t it all a matter of blind instinct? I find it hard to imagine Paddy having thought processes at all, let alone brave ones – “I say me old cock, bugger me backwards if the Bosch haven’t recruited a couple of kestrels – I’m going to have to be dashed brave now if I’m going to get this message back to Blighty.“