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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.“
The pigeon’s been born! This is the little rascal that’s going to make us rich! Although you may find it hard to believe, in a few short weeks, this rather ugly duckling will be soaring through the wide blue yonder as a champion homing pigeon. He’s the rather out-of-focus one on the right, and his little sibling is just beginning to break through his/her shell on the left. ISN’T NATURE WONDERFUL!
Pete, the man who’s done the breeding on behalf of our syndicate (see here for the first instalment of this tale of sporting derring-do), reckons they’re so sure to win that he’s agreed to buy half of each of them himself, leaving us with the other half of each, split 10 ways (small portions indeed). That way, if Pinky gets eaten by a Peregrine falcon on its first training flight (a very real possibility, apparently), there will still be Perky to keep the family flag flying.
I’ve often thought I’d like to own a racehorse. I’d get to wear a top hat on Derby day, fly around the world in a Lear jet, mix with the beautiful people, and drink Cinzano. The problem is, race horses are expensive to buy, and running costs are high as well… so I’m going for the lower cost option of a pigeon.
Actually it’s not a whole pigeon, as that would be out of my price range too. But a group of us at work have clubbed together to buy a racing pigeon, as a syndicate. None of us knows much about pigeons, beyond the basic anatomy (2 wings, 2 feet (ideally), feathers, stupidly small brain), and elementary racing concepts (put bird in lorry, drive a long way, let bird go, wait for bird to fly home by virtue of stupidly small brain), so the bird will be raised and trained by an expert pigeon fancier. All we have to do is put the money in, cheer the bird home, drink the Cinzano, and count the winnings. Because that’s the beauty of this scheme – we put in a paltry (or should that be poultry?) £10 each and, when the bird wins, we win THOUSANDS of pounds! It’s so simple, I’m surprised more people haven’t thought of it.
That said, there are risks. At the moment, the bird is an egg. It will be born in about 12 days’ time, and will then get taken away to be handed over to the trainer. It’s at that point that we hand over our money. If anything happens to Tweaty Pie before it gets to the race, we get nothing. And pigeons are slightly more susceptible to accidents than horses. Look what happened to our last pigeon:
