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From an egg to a champion
This is the story of our Pau Grand National winner Somerset Lad, as told by himself. Is he a champion? That is for you, the reader to decide.
The first I knew of this wondrous world was when I peeped out from my mother’s breast feathers and felt a cool breeze blowing through the loft. I was later told by my mother that I was 5 days old and had been born on August 15th. The next two to three days were spent in the warmth of my mother and father’s breast down, with me only poking out to be fed on numerous occasions during the day and evening.
When I was 7 days old my mother was disturbed by a creature trying to pick me up. Although my mother was a very small hen she gave this creature quite a fright, but eventually she had to give way. As I was removed from the warmth of my nest, I was somewhat frightened by this strange creature holding me, but it was very gentle. It carefully examined me and then placed a strange band on my leg, which worried me a little. My mother later told me that this creature was one of the masters of the whole flock of pigeons. She said that they were kind and no harm would come to me when picked up, and that it was a part of my education. The days passed very quickly and soon I became more aware of what was going on around me. I grew quickly and quills began to take the place of the soft yellow down.
When I was about 14 days old my mother spent a little less time covering me. I had no nestmate, only an egg next to me, which my mother told me was not going to hatch. I was a little lonely on my own. I could hear the sound of squeaking somewhere in the loft, but could not see any other babies. My masters came every day to tend to us, sometimes just touching me gently, never picking me up. I always knew when they were coming, even before I heard the sound of footsteps, as they used to talk so I would not be afraid, and I learned to recognise their voices.
Soon I began to acquire a new coat and my feathers grew strong with a nice shine on them. My mother told me that the food we were given was the best, full of goodness with high protein and full of vitamins and minerals. There were two masters who tended us. One, whose name was Philip, cleaned the loft and made sure that my nest was clean and that everything in the loft was in order, also giving us grit and mineral blocks. He was very good to us and always played with me in the mornings. The other master, the elder of the two brothers, brought us our food. His name was Steve, and he talked to every baby and parent on the nests, and also played with the babies. For instance, he would give me a little tap on the breast and I would, in return, give him a clap from my wing. My mother was right – they were kind and gentle and I knew then that I had nothing to fear and would be happy here.
One afternoon, when I was about 26 days old, my master Steve came and said it was time to join the other young ones in another section. By this time my mother had laid again and was sitting on another clutch of eggs. I was taken to a new place and put on the floor on a bed of straw and shavings, where there were another 11 young pigeons the same age as myself. I had only seen two of them before and that was when I looked down from my nest and saw them on the floor of the loft. Philip came in and put them back in their nest that time. It was a strange and frightening time for us all. We cuddled up together in one corner and did not move at all that evening. The next day Philip came in to clean out the section. There was no mess except where we had huddled in the corner, but he must have realised we were frightened as he spoke quietly to us and played with us for a few minutes, but we did not respond and stayed in a tight group. A short time after, Steve came in with a tray of food which was all maple peas. Water was poured into the fountain with the top left off and , after talking to us for a time, we were left alone to get used to our surroundings and the start of our lives as racing pigeons. However, all was not going to be as secure as I had first thought. My masters had only moved to High Littleton in June 1996 and were still getting the lofts together. Their intention, I was told, was to put a wooden fence around us to keep out intruders, such as, another new creature to me, a cat, but at the time of my being installed in my new home the fence was not yet in place.
The day after we were put in our new home I was sulking a bit because I missed my mother and father. A few squabbles broke out every now and then and there was one pigeon in particular who picked on the small ones. He was a big dark cheq and he really was a spiteful young bird. Soon hunger overtook my sulks and as I had been able to eat from a pot of food in my nestbox, I knew where to find the tray of food. A few squeaks quickly brought the other babies over and soon we were all eating. Later that morning Philip came in and spoke to us. Picking up each one of us gently, he dipped our beaks in the water fountain. I had a good drink and the others followed me back to our corner. I noticed the food tray was taken away but the water fountain was left.
That evening Steve came in with the food tray after Philip had cleaned the floor. He also had a small box which he sat on near to where the food was. He spoke to us and gave a whistle. We did not take any notice of this noise, but nevertheless we looked up to him. He continued to speak and whistle and moved the peas around in the tray. One of the young ones gave a squeak and dived for the tray. We all followed and soon filled ourselves up with maple peas. All the time we were eating, Steve was talking gently and moving his hand among us as we ate. I soon found the water and had a good drink, then most of the babies followed. Philip came in later and dipped all our beaks in the water just in case any had not had a drink. This same routine was followed for the next three days.
On the fifth day after our move we were beginning to settle down. Usually we splashed about in the water fountain until the evening, when we found that Steve had put on the top and we could then only drink through the small openings. The next morning we were picked up and placed on the board outside the loft. This was another frightening but wonderful experience for me. I looked around and was startled by a bird flying close by. There were so many different sounds and sights to be seen. During the next few days we spent about an hour, twice a day, on the landing board outside. During the days inside the loft we had each claimed a perch, and a few fights broke out until we all claimed our own space. As the days passed I noticed that the evenings were closing in and dusk was falling much sooner that when I was a baby in the nest. I enjoyed exercising my wings, taking short flights across the garden and back to the others on the landing board.
One morning we had been let out on the board. All seemed as usual as we flapped our wings and took short flights. Then, all of a sudden, this black shape was on the board among us. Sheer panic took hold and I soared into the air, not knowing what had happened. All reason left me, my only thought being to get away from that shape, which later on I found out was a cat, an enemy of us pigeons. I saw some of the other youngsters flying all over the sky and I could feel their fear. One of the masters, which one I do not know, shouted and whistled, but I took no notice. I just flew around, going higher as I got used to my wings. The wind took me away from the loft and I could see the houses of the village below me, such a long way down. I did not know what to do or where to go to stay away from that black shape. It seemed like an age that I had been flying. The village was no longer below me, just fields and strange places. I began to tire and looked for somewhere to land. Then I saw a house on its own. I flew over it and on the second attempt, landed on the roof. I was frightened and really alone for the first time in my life. What was to become of me now? Darkness fell and I moved close to the chimney more for security than warmth. A fitful night was spent on the roof as there are so many different sounds at night. I later learned that a couple of the noises I heard were the hoot of an owl and the cry of a vixen.
Dawn broke and I was feeling stiff, cold and hungry. I had not eaten before being let out the day before and was thirsty. I decided to take to the air but soon realised that somehow I had to find my way home. I tried to retrace my flight from the day before but I had not been thinking of where I was heading at the time. Not knowing how or why, I decided to go in a certain direction and after flying for some time, I saw a flock of pigeons circling and joined them. I soon realised that I did not know them so moved away, flying on in the direction I had first taken that morning. My wings were beginning to ache, when in the distance I saw the village I had spent some time flying around the day before. I knew I was nearly home but wondered what would be waiting for me. I flew on over the village to see my loft below. It looked so small and strange and the question was should I land or not? Feeling somewhat nervous I landed on a house nearby and looked over to the loft, where there was no movement at all. It was not until I heard a whistle coming from nearer the house that I recognised Steve and he was calling to me. After some hesitation I flew down towards the loft, missed the landing board and circled around again, then I pitched down on the board. I was pleased to see my master again. I looked around for signs of the black cat but it was nowhere to be seen.
Once inside the loft I felt secure. After getting my bearings I noticed that there were only six other young birds beside myself – obviously four had not made it. Later I was to learn that the ‘bully’ of our young flock was a victim of the black cat the day before. My master picked me up and talked to me. Of course I could not understand what he was saying, but by the tone of his voice I knew all would be well again. We never did see our loftmates again, and what became of them we will never know. It was a full week before we were allowed out of the loft again and another surprise awaited us. The loft was completely closed in by a 6ft wooden fence. Unknown to us at the time, a wire strand, battery operated, stopped any animals coming over the fence, but we felt secure and could move freely around the compound with no fear.
Time went by and more lofts were erected in the garden. My parents and their mates were transferred to the stock loft with a wire aviary for them to sit out in. Our section was to become the widowhood loft from which we were to race. The days passed by and we were given an open loft, free to roam where we wished. On several occasions we caught up with a batch of racers and went with them, sometimes for hours at a time.
One day Philip placed us in a basket with some wood shavings. We stayed there for two or more hours and were then released. At first we did not come out straight away, but after being placed in the basket two or three times we learned to come out as soon as the flap was dropped. Then Steve told us it was time for a training toss. Of course, we did not understand what this meant, but once again we were place in the basket. This time we were taken and put in another box – this turned out to be a car. Soon we could feel a stopping and starting motion and then finally we came to a standstill. Steve took us out and placed the basket on the grass for us to get used to our surroundings. After about 10 minutes the flap was dropped and after a bit of hesitation, we were airborne. Once again everything looked strange and I did not know this place. We climbed higher in the blue sky. I looked down to see my master looking up at us, shading his eyes against the sun. It was very clear and I could see a long way, but wondered which way was home. After circling a few times I found myself trying to pull away from my loftmates but I decided to stay with them, then as one we turned to the north and moved away. After what seemed an age I finally noticed the familiar village and knew we had made it home.
On going across to the aviary the next morning I told my father of the experience we had the day before. ‘Yes, I know’ he said. ‘You were taken 20 miles away for your first training flight and took over an hour to do the journey home. One bit of advice. Do not stay with the flock even if they are loftmates. Use your own ability to find your own line home. Generations of breeding should give you the ability to do that. Your family line are leaders not followers.’ I never forgot those words given to me that day.
The second training toss was around 10 days later. We were again taken to the same place, left to look out of the basket, then into the air we went. After circling around I suddenly felt myself being drawn to the north. I decided to go and another bird joined me. This was my mate, 44. We flew side by side enjoying ourselves. The air was much colder now with a steely blue look on the horizon – winter was approaching. We touched down together some 40 minutes later, and within five minutes, the other five latebreds landed. We never went into the basket again that year, 1996, but every day we exercised and had an open loft. I grew some new body feathers but I did not feel complete. However, they did keep out the cold. I noticed, that I had only moulted three wing feathers. That then was the first part of my education as a latebred.
The days became much shorter and it remained dark for long periods of time – another new experience. During the day we had an open loft so we could come and go as we pleased. I flew across to the aviary where my mother sat on a perch watching us latebreds. She told me that it was unusual for my masters to leave the loft open for us all day during the winter. The racers did not normally exercise during the winter months, only going out for a bath once a week, but no doubt our masters had a good reason for allowing us free-range flying.
As the months passed I continued to grow and we had plenty of food in front of us twice a day. Slowly the evenings began to get a little lighter and my thoughts also turned to the young hen 62. One day Master Philip came in and after cleaning out the section – he always cleaned out whilst we were in the loft – he put us into a training basket, where we stayed for most of the day. Of course a drinking trough was put on for us and we were given a light feed in the basket. Some time later we were taken into the middle of the garden. The basket flap dropped and out we went. After flying for a short time, we entered the loft to find the nestboxes cleaned out and freshly sprayed so that we could all go in them. This caused much excitement and soon 44, dark cock 21, 91 and myself were all cooing around in a box each. This of course brought 62 over to me. Showing up to me, she entered the box and we carried on in the way nature intended.
Eleven days later 62 produced her first egg. It was a really exciting time for me. Two days later a second egg was laid and we began to sit and wait for the day when the babies would arrive. In the meantime we still had an open loft and sometimes I used to range away on my own for quite a few miles, at times meeting other pigeons. Sometimes I would join them for a few miles, other times I would break away to find my own line back to my loft and hen. The eggs duly hatched and I became a father. I felt a little different, as if I had grownup. Flying now took a back seat as I spent more time in the loft tending the needs of my family. The babies grew quickly and Master Philip put bands on their legs at 7 days old. I was on the nest at the time, making a fuss at being disturbed, but I knew everything was alright. When the babies were about 16 days old I started to take more than a little interest in my mate 62 again. She laid again in a fresh bowl put in by Master Steve the day our first babies were taken away. They could eat well themselves, but it was a sad parting. Nevertheless I knew that I could see them every day and keep an eye on them. This is a part of life that we came to accept. When I had been sitting on the second clutch of eggs for 6 days, my master Steve came in and spoke to us, then put us in a basket. Once again we travelled in the car, and we were taken to the same place where we had been let go on our first training tosses some months before. Again, after a short rest, the flap dropped and we were airborne. It was strange to go through this again, but I soon knew the direction I wished to go and I made a break for the north. The others followed in a small bunch and 40 minutes later we dropped onto the landing board. Soon I was in my box competing with 62 over who was going to sit on our eggs. Four more times we were taken to the same place, so it became easy and I began to feel good.
Two days later the journey by car took longer. When we were taken from the car and put on the grass, I noticed that we were on very high ground. I could see water, which I was later told by my mother, was the English Channel. She also told me that I would be expected to cross it many times during my racing career. We were released from the basket and circled around two or three times. I headed towards the water. So intent was I on seeing the Channel that when I looked around I saw my loftmates had gone the other way. I was on my own. Once again I circled, this time going out a short way across the water. I quickly gained height. A shake of my tail and I headed again to the north, veering a little to the west. After flying for what seemed to be a long time , which in fact was only 1 hour and 10 minutes, I saw the village and beyond that my loft. Soon I was relating my experiences to my mate and the three cocks 44, 21 and 91. They had been back some eight minutes before me.
One week later Master Steve came to the lofts and we were basketed but not put in the car. A new man by the name of Geoff Bracey took us and we were transferred to a large crate containing other pigeons. What was happening? I could not see my mate 62 and thought of her and my eggs, which were soon to hatch. Again, after some time, we reached the spot where I had first seen the Channel, and after a short rest, we were liberated. Such a mass of bodies and wings, the sky was filled with pigeons of all colours. I could not see any of my loftmates as we milled around in large groups. I decided to take my father’s advice given to me months before and peeled away from the batch I was in. I climbed higher and looked down to see large groups of pigeons breaking away in different directions. I sensed my bearings and headed north-west. Soon I began noticing places I had passed before and I was enjoying myself. When I touched down at the loft to be greeted by Philip he looked pleased, so I must have done well. There were no other loftmates in the loft so I was the first home. Twice more Geoff Bracey took us and liberated us with strange pigeons, then one evening, after being put in the basket, we were taken to another place where a rubber band was placed on my leg. Once again I found myself with strange pigeons. This time the crates were placed on a large vehicle called a transporter. Once again we were taken to the coast, to a place called Weymouth, 48 miles from our loft. This was the first time I had spent a night away from home since the day when that dreaded black cat attacked us. Water was given to us but it was not easy to get to it as I was jostled by the others. Soon we were free and never had I seen so many pigeons. There were thousands of them and the sky was black with beating wings and bodies. After what seemed ages, but was only a minute or so, I got a line for home. What made me go a certain way I do not know, but I knew for certain this was the right direction. Again, in just over an hour, I touched down and went through the door into the loft and to my nest. I went to sit on the eggs but was picked up by Master Philip who took the rubber band from my leg. I soon settled down to sit on the nest and await my mate 62. A few minutes later three loftmates landed together including 62. It was not long before all were home from our first race.
Three days later I went across the aviary to see my father who told me that I had won 3rd prize. He also said that he was pleased that I was beginning to take notice of what I had been told. Once more we went to a short race of 93 miles and again we all came home. About eight days later when I was over at the aviary again passing the time of day with my father, he told me that I would soon be going across the Channel to a place called Messac in France, 244 miles away, and to heed what he had told me months before.
This proved correct, for the very next day I was placed in the basket and was soon joining up with other pigeons. This time we travelled for two days and were put down in the hold of a ferry. It was not very pleasant and I felt quite ill for a time. This was followed by a drive through a strange land and then we stopped. We had been fed and watered the day before, in fact twice for water. This time a feed and water was left before us. After a restless night, dawn broke and I heard the men outside talking. The water was emptied and the older pigeons started to line up at the front by the flap. I was at the back, not knowing what to expect. All of a sudden we were away, pushing each other to get to the opening. I was scared of all the wings around me and didn’t know which direction to take. However, once I had steadied up I felt myself being drawn to the north. I flew in a group with about 60 pigeons and the big red cheq next to me told me we would reach the Channel after about three hours of flying, and if it was clear, it would take us two hours to cross, perhaps a bit more as we were flying into a slight headwind. I had not noticed this but, once told, I began to take more notice of where the wind was and what was going on around me. A few of the batch dropped away, falling behind. I felt good and moved up to the front, with the red keeping pace with me. After a time, far ahead, I noticed the outline of the Channel. A little nervous of what lay ahead I looked across to the red, who gave a clap of his wings to tell me all was well. The water loomed up in front of us. It looked quite grey and except for a small dot on the water, there was nothing else to be seen. I kept close to the red and six others who had joined us as we flew into a light head wind. After what seemed ages I saw in the distance the outline of the English coast. Once we had reached land the pace increased, and as I looked around me, I saw two of the group pull away to the right. I then saw a familiar landmark I had passed several times before, and said goodbye to the red cheq, veering a little to the west of the small group. I was on my own and I knew that I would soon be home. After an hour I landed, to be picked up by Master Philip and have the race rubber removed from my leg. I found out later that I had done well, finishing in 5th place in my first Channel race.
That was the last time I was put in the basket that season and the rest of the summer passed by with nothing much to do but eat and sit around in the sun. I had been allowed to rear my second nest but noticed all other eggs laid by 62 did not hatch. Summer moved into Autumn and 62 and the other hens were removed from the loft. It was a sad day for me and I did not eat or fly for two days. My three mates 44, 21 and 91 felt the same but we soon accepted that it was coming winter and we were beginning to moult quite heavily. Time went by. Soon I had a new coat of feathers, and for the first time, a new set of wing flights. I now felt complete.
The winter passed and I became a two year old, although in actual fact I was slightly younger as I had been born in August 1996. We went through the same process as the year before except that when my young ones were 16 days old both they and my mate were removed. My mother told me I was now going to be on widowhood and that I would see my mate for a short time when I returned from a race and on the odd occasion before going into the basket. I crossed the Channel three times that year, scoring well and the last race I flew on the day, was 468 miles, winning 34th open CSCFC Bergerac. My masters were pleased with me and once again I was left to have a good moult.
The next spring arrived. Nesting took place and again my young and my hen were taken away. My first Channel race was from Messac, 244 miles. I arrived home in 84th place in the CSCFC. I did not race again for a few weeks, then came a complete surprise. I was put in my nestbox and my hen was brought to me. I was very happy to see her and settled down to nest. The very next morning I was taken away, placed in a basket and taken to a marking station to join other pigeons for a race from Nantes. I was not at all happy. I felt sulky and did not eat during the trip across the Channel. When we were liberated I knew which direction to take, but I just kept pace with the group, so annoyed was I to have been taken away from my hen after such a short time. I wasn’t concentrating so I didn’t realise that the wind over the Channel was very strong westerly and that I had drifted off course. The coastline we crossed over was strange to me. I had noticed a small island a few miles from land (later I found out it was the Isle of Wight). I was completely wrong. I knew that I had to turn to the west, which I did, breaking away from the group I was with. I flew about 70 miles before I saw home.
I knew I had been silly and vowed it would not happen again. Once home I was given a light feed and a warm honey drink, then reunited with my hen. Needless to say I did not win that day, but it was the making of me as a racing pigeon. I was left alone with my hen and she duly laid her eggs. Once again I thought my racing was over for the season, but I was wrong. Two weeks later I was given to Geoff Bracey and put in the basket with other pigeons. He took us to the place where I had first seen the Channel, 48 miles from home. Five times I went there in five days –it was easy. The one thing I did notice was how well I felt, full of energy. Never had I been so well both mentally and physically. The eggs hatched and I had two babies which I sat early in the mornings and in the late evenings, not letting my hen on them if I could stop her. I had three days rest then was off again, being taken to the same place near the water by Geoff, who liberated me on my own. One hour and five minutes later I was home. The next morning Master Philip put me once again in the basket , but this time I sensed a difference. I hardly had time to say goodbye to my mate but I promised her I would be back as soon as I could be. A little while before, when I had finished the five training flights of 48 miles, I had been across to the aviary to talk to my mother and she told me that at this time of the year the big national race from Pau,. 560 miles to here, takes place. She said that I had been trained for the race. It would be very hard, but I must look after myself and pace myself. This proved correct because when I was in the basket with the other pigeons the feeling was different from any other I had experienced.
After three days travelling we arrived at Pau. We had plenty of rest and water, plus a feed that afternoon. The next morning, dawn breaking saw heavy clouds and rain. The weather improved during the morning and there was much talking amongst the men outside. I knew we were soon to be let go and I moved to the front near the opening flap. Then suddenly it was open and I soared into the air with thousands of the best long distance pigeons in England for company. It took a minute to sort myself out and I found myself in a group of about 200 other pigeons. I knew I had to head north and so did the others. There was no pulling against each other. I guessed the time to be about midday and we set a good pace. The wind was light variable at the time and did not bother any of us. A blue bar on my left came from Poole and had flown the race the year before. Another cheq cock came from Kent and a small dark cheq hen said she came from Bolton and had a long fly ahead. Six hours went by and quite a few of the pigeons had dropped back. By then we had no more than 60 in our group, with another batch somewhat off the pace. Two more hours went by and I was feeling good and strong, thinking of my mate and babies. I did not know how much further I had to go, but knew it was quite a way. Several of us increased the speed until a dark mass of cloud came up in front of us, signalling rain ahead. Most of the group I was in turned to the right to try and go around the blackening sky, but myself and three others headed straight into the black clouds. I kept up the same speed, the rain hitting me as I flew into the storm. I lost sight of the other pigeons and don’t know if they fell back or pitched down, all I knew was that I had to get home. The sky was now quite dark, but I had gone through the storm and was slowly drying out. I knew the Channel was somewhere in front of me and I increased my speed yet again. I could see the lights of houses far below me and then, in the distance, I was just able to make out the French coastline. I knew I would not be crossing that night and I wondered why we had not been liberated earlier as I would have been home before dark. I flew right up to the water and looked for a safe place to land and wait for the coming dawn.
The next morning, just as dawn was breaking, I gave myself a shake and looked towards the Channel. It was very misty and not very inviting, but I knew I could not wait for it to clear, the urge to get home was too strong. I looked around for somewhere to get water and noticed that the gutter of the building I was on contained a little. A bit of a slide, a flutter down from the roof and a quick drink. It did not taste too good but I needed it as I had not had any water since leaving the transporter the day before. Into the air, one circle and I headed into the mist of the dreaded English Channel. I kept a good height, and after flying for about 1 ½ hours, the visibility improved and soon I could see the English coastline in the distance. I felt good and knew that I would soon be home. Still keeping a good height, I felt the wind on my back so it had turned south, south-west. On reaching land I veered to the north-west and soon picked up familiar landmarks. The morning was quite fresh and as the village showed up in front of me, I looked down to see my two masters waiting. The loft doors open, I flew over their heads into my nestbox. By the time they reached me I was trying to cover my babies. I was picked up gently by Master Philip and the race rubber was removed. Then I was given a warm honey drink and a little Hormoform to eat. Later that day a lot of strange people came to look at me. They were obviously pleased and excited so I knew that I had done something good. This was a pleasure for me as, whatever had happened, I had made my two masters very happy and repaid them for their loving care. I had won the Blue Riband race of the year, the NFC from Pau by 34 yards per minute over the second pigeon.
(The events mentioned,including the move to High Littleton, the black cat and the preparation and training tosses, are all facts, and the 3 cocks 44, 21 and 19, are all top winning pigeons in classic and national racing to Pau.)
Steve Patrick -- Patrick Bros' Loft
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From an egg to a champion
This is the story of our Pau Grand National winner Somerset Lad, as told by himself. Is he a champion? That is for you, the reader to decide.
The first I knew of this wondrous world was when I peeped out from my mother’s breast feathers and felt a cool breeze blowing through the loft. I was later told by my mother that I was 5 days old and had been born on August 15th. The next two to three days were spent in the warmth of my mother and father’s breast down, with me only poking out to be fed on numerous occasions during the day and evening.
When I was 7 days old my mother was disturbed by a creature trying to pick me up. Although my mother was a very small hen she gave this creature quite a fright, but eventually she had to give way. As I was removed from the warmth of my nest, I was somewhat frightened by this strange creature holding me, but it was very gentle. It carefully examined me and then placed a strange band on my leg, which worried me a little. My mother later told me that this creature was one of the masters of the whole flock of pigeons. She said that they were kind and no harm would come to me when picked up, and that it was a part of my education. The days passed very quickly and soon I became more aware of what was going on around me. I grew quickly and quills began to take the place of the soft yellow down.
When I was about 14 days old my mother spent a little less time covering me. I had no nestmate, only an egg next to me, which my mother told me was not going to hatch. I was a little lonely on my own. I could hear the sound of squeaking somewhere in the loft, but could not see any other babies. My masters came every day to tend to us, sometimes just touching me gently, never picking me up. I always knew when they were coming, even before I heard the sound of footsteps, as they used to talk so I would not be afraid, and I learned to recognise their voices.
Soon I began to acquire a new coat and my feathers grew strong with a nice shine on them. My mother told me that the food we were given was the best, full of goodness with high protein and full of vitamins and minerals. There were two masters who tended us. One, whose name was Philip, cleaned the loft and made sure that my nest was clean and that everything in the loft was in order, also giving us grit and mineral blocks. He was very good to us and always played with me in the mornings. The other master, the elder of the two brothers, brought us our food. His name was Steve, and he talked to every baby and parent on the nests, and also played with the babies. For instance, he would give me a little tap on the breast and I would, in return, give him a clap from my wing. My mother was right – they were kind and gentle and I knew then that I had nothing to fear and would be happy here.
One afternoon, when I was about 26 days old, my master Steve came and said it was time to join the other young ones in another section. By this time my mother had laid again and was sitting on another clutch of eggs. I was taken to a new place and put on the floor on a bed of straw and shavings, where there were another 11 young pigeons the same age as myself. I had only seen two of them before and that was when I looked down from my nest and saw them on the floor of the loft. Philip came in and put them back in their nest that time. It was a strange and frightening time for us all. We cuddled up together in one corner and did not move at all that evening. The next day Philip came in to clean out the section. There was no mess except where we had huddled in the corner, but he must have realised we were frightened as he spoke quietly to us and played with us for a few minutes, but we did not respond and stayed in a tight group. A short time after, Steve came in with a tray of food which was all maple peas. Water was poured into the fountain with the top left off and , after talking to us for a time, we were left alone to get used to our surroundings and the start of our lives as racing pigeons. However, all was not going to be as secure as I had first thought. My masters had only moved to High Littleton in June 1996 and were still getting the lofts together. Their intention, I was told, was to put a wooden fence around us to keep out intruders, such as, another new creature to me, a cat, but at the time of my being installed in my new home the fence was not yet in place.
The day after we were put in our new home I was sulking a bit because I missed my mother and father. A few squabbles broke out every now and then and there was one pigeon in particular who picked on the small ones. He was a big dark cheq and he really was a spiteful young bird. Soon hunger overtook my sulks and as I had been able to eat from a pot of food in my nestbox, I knew where to find the tray of food. A few squeaks quickly brought the other babies over and soon we were all eating. Later that morning Philip came in and spoke to us. Picking up each one of us gently, he dipped our beaks in the water fountain. I had a good drink and the others followed me back to our corner. I noticed the food tray was taken away but the water fountain was left.
That evening Steve came in with the food tray after Philip had cleaned the floor. He also had a small box which he sat on near to where the food was. He spoke to us and gave a whistle. We did not take any notice of this noise, but nevertheless we looked up to him. He continued to speak and whistle and moved the peas around in the tray. One of the young ones gave a squeak and dived for the tray. We all followed and soon filled ourselves up with maple peas. All the time we were eating, Steve was talking gently and moving his hand among us as we ate. I soon found the water and had a good drink, then most of the babies followed. Philip came in later and dipped all our beaks in the water just in case any had not had a drink. This same routine was followed for the next three days.
On the fifth day after our move we were beginning to settle down. Usually we splashed about in the water fountain until the evening, when we found that Steve had put on the top and we could then only drink through the small openings. The next morning we were picked up and placed on the board outside the loft. This was another frightening but wonderful experience for me. I looked around and was startled by a bird flying close by. There were so many different sounds and sights to be seen. During the next few days we spent about an hour, twice a day, on the landing board outside. During the days inside the loft we had each claimed a perch, and a few fights broke out until we all claimed our own space. As the days passed I noticed that the evenings were closing in and dusk was falling much sooner that when I was a baby in the nest. I enjoyed exercising my wings, taking short flights across the garden and back to the others on the landing board.
One morning we had been let out on the board. All seemed as usual as we flapped our wings and took short flights. Then, all of a sudden, this black shape was on the board among us. Sheer panic took hold and I soared into the air, not knowing what had happened. All reason left me, my only thought being to get away from that shape, which later on I found out was a cat, an enemy of us pigeons. I saw some of the other youngsters flying all over the sky and I could feel their fear. One of the masters, which one I do not know, shouted and whistled, but I took no notice. I just flew around, going higher as I got used to my wings. The wind took me away from the loft and I could see the houses of the village below me, such a long way down. I did not know what to do or where to go to stay away from that black shape. It seemed like an age that I had been flying. The village was no longer below me, just fields and strange places. I began to tire and looked for somewhere to land. Then I saw a house on its own. I flew over it and on the second attempt, landed on the roof. I was frightened and really alone for the first time in my life. What was to become of me now? Darkness fell and I moved close to the chimney more for security than warmth. A fitful night was spent on the roof as there are so many different sounds at night. I later learned that a couple of the noises I heard were the hoot of an owl and the cry of a vixen.
Dawn broke and I was feeling stiff, cold and hungry. I had not eaten before being let out the day before and was thirsty. I decided to take to the air but soon realised that somehow I had to find my way home. I tried to retrace my flight from the day before but I had not been thinking of where I was heading at the time. Not knowing how or why, I decided to go in a certain direction and after flying for some time, I saw a flock of pigeons circling and joined them. I soon realised that I did not know them so moved away, flying on in the direction I had first taken that morning. My wings were beginning to ache, when in the distance I saw the village I had spent some time flying around the day before. I knew I was nearly home but wondered what would be waiting for me. I flew on over the village to see my loft below. It looked so small and strange and the question was should I land or not? Feeling somewhat nervous I landed on a house nearby and looked over to the loft, where there was no movement at all. It was not until I heard a whistle coming from nearer the house that I recognised Steve and he was calling to me. After some hesitation I flew down towards the loft, missed the landing board and circled around again, then I pitched down on the board. I was pleased to see my master again. I looked around for signs of the black cat but it was nowhere to be seen.
Once inside the loft I felt secure. After getting my bearings I noticed that there were only six other young birds beside myself – obviously four had not made it. Later I was to learn that the ‘bully’ of our young flock was a victim of the black cat the day before. My master picked me up and talked to me. Of course I could not understand what he was saying, but by the tone of his voice I knew all would be well again. We never did see our loftmates again, and what became of them we will never know. It was a full week before we were allowed out of the loft again and another surprise awaited us. The loft was completely closed in by a 6ft wooden fence. Unknown to us at the time, a wire strand, battery operated, stopped any animals coming over the fence, but we felt secure and could move freely around the compound with no fear.
Time went by and more lofts were erected in the garden. My parents and their mates were transferred to the stock loft with a wire aviary for them to sit out in. Our section was to become the widowhood loft from which we were to race. The days passed by and we were given an open loft, free to roam where we wished. On several occasions we caught up with a batch of racers and went with them, sometimes for hours at a time.
One day Philip placed us in a basket with some wood shavings. We stayed there for two or more hours and were then released. At first we did not come out straight away, but after being placed in the basket two or three times we learned to come out as soon as the flap was dropped. Then Steve told us it was time for a training toss. Of course, we did not understand what this meant, but once again we were place in the basket. This time we were taken and put in another box – this turned out to be a car. Soon we could feel a stopping and starting motion and then finally we came to a standstill. Steve took us out and placed the basket on the grass for us to get used to our surroundings. After about 10 minutes the flap was dropped and after a bit of hesitation, we were airborne. Once again everything looked strange and I did not know this place. We climbed higher in the blue sky. I looked down to see my master looking up at us, shading his eyes against the sun. It was very clear and I could see a long way, but wondered which way was home. After circling a few times I found myself trying to pull away from my loftmates but I decided to stay with them, then as one we turned to the north and moved away. After what seemed an age I finally noticed the familiar village and knew we had made it home.
On going across to the aviary the next morning I told my father of the experience we had the day before. ‘Yes, I know’ he said. ‘You were taken 20 miles away for your first training flight and took over an hour to do the journey home. One bit of advice. Do not stay with the flock even if they are loftmates. Use your own ability to find your own line home. Generations of breeding should give you the ability to do that. Your family line are leaders not followers.’ I never forgot those words given to me that day.
The second training toss was around 10 days later. We were again taken to the same place, left to look out of the basket, then into the air we went. After circling around I suddenly felt myself being drawn to the north. I decided to go and another bird joined me. This was my mate, 44. We flew side by side enjoying ourselves. The air was much colder now with a steely blue look on the horizon – winter was approaching. We touched down together some 40 minutes later, and within five minutes, the other five latebreds landed. We never went into the basket again that year, 1996, but every day we exercised and had an open loft. I grew some new body feathers but I did not feel complete. However, they did keep out the cold. I noticed, that I had only moulted three wing feathers. That then was the first part of my education as a latebred.
The days became much shorter and it remained dark for long periods of time – another new experience. During the day we had an open loft so we could come and go as we pleased. I flew across to the aviary where my mother sat on a perch watching us latebreds. She told me that it was unusual for my masters to leave the loft open for us all day during the winter. The racers did not normally exercise during the winter months, only going out for a bath once a week, but no doubt our masters had a good reason for allowing us free-range flying.
As the months passed I continued to grow and we had plenty of food in front of us twice a day. Slowly the evenings began to get a little lighter and my thoughts also turned to the young hen 62. One day Master Philip came in and after cleaning out the section – he always cleaned out whilst we were in the loft – he put us into a training basket, where we stayed for most of the day. Of course a drinking trough was put on for us and we were given a light feed in the basket. Some time later we were taken into the middle of the garden. The basket flap dropped and out we went. After flying for a short time, we entered the loft to find the nestboxes cleaned out and freshly sprayed so that we could all go in them. This caused much excitement and soon 44, dark cock 21, 91 and myself were all cooing around in a box each. This of course brought 62 over to me. Showing up to me, she entered the box and we carried on in the way nature intended.
Eleven days later 62 produced her first egg. It was a really exciting time for me. Two days later a second egg was laid and we began to sit and wait for the day when the babies would arrive. In the meantime we still had an open loft and sometimes I used to range away on my own for quite a few miles, at times meeting other pigeons. Sometimes I would join them for a few miles, other times I would break away to find my own line back to my loft and hen. The eggs duly hatched and I became a father. I felt a little different, as if I had grownup. Flying now took a back seat as I spent more time in the loft tending the needs of my family. The babies grew quickly and Master Philip put bands on their legs at 7 days old. I was on the nest at the time, making a fuss at being disturbed, but I knew everything was alright. When the babies were about 16 days old I started to take more than a little interest in my mate 62 again. She laid again in a fresh bowl put in by Master Steve the day our first babies were taken away. They could eat well themselves, but it was a sad parting. Nevertheless I knew that I could see them every day and keep an eye on them. This is a part of life that we came to accept. When I had been sitting on the second clutch of eggs for 6 days, my master Steve came in and spoke to us, then put us in a basket. Once again we travelled in the car, and we were taken to the same place where we had been let go on our first training tosses some months before. Again, after a short rest, the flap dropped and we were airborne. It was strange to go through this again, but I soon knew the direction I wished to go and I made a break for the north. The others followed in a small bunch and 40 minutes later we dropped onto the landing board. Soon I was in my box competing with 62 over who was going to sit on our eggs. Four more times we were taken to the same place, so it became easy and I began to feel good.
Two days later the journey by car took longer. When we were taken from the car and put on the grass, I noticed that we were on very high ground. I could see water, which I was later told by my mother, was the English Channel. She also told me that I would be expected to cross it many times during my racing career. We were released from the basket and circled around two or three times. I headed towards the water. So intent was I on seeing the Channel that when I looked around I saw my loftmates had gone the other way. I was on my own. Once again I circled, this time going out a short way across the water. I quickly gained height. A shake of my tail and I headed again to the north, veering a little to the west. After flying for what seemed to be a long time , which in fact was only 1 hour and 10 minutes, I saw the village and beyond that my loft. Soon I was relating my experiences to my mate and the three cocks 44, 21 and 91. They had been back some eight minutes before me.
One week later Master Steve came to the lofts and we were basketed but not put in the car. A new man by the name of Geoff Bracey took us and we were transferred to a large crate containing other pigeons. What was happening? I could not see my mate 62 and thought of her and my eggs, which were soon to hatch. Again, after some time, we reached the spot where I had first seen the Channel, and after a short rest, we were liberated. Such a mass of bodies and wings, the sky was filled with pigeons of all colours. I could not see any of my loftmates as we milled around in large groups. I decided to take my father’s advice given to me months before and peeled away from the batch I was in. I climbed higher and looked down to see large groups of pigeons breaking away in different directions. I sensed my bearings and headed north-west. Soon I began noticing places I had passed before and I was enjoying myself. When I touched down at the loft to be greeted by Philip he looked pleased, so I must have done well. There were no other loftmates in the loft so I was the first home. Twice more Geoff Bracey took us and liberated us with strange pigeons, then one evening, after being put in the basket, we were taken to another place where a rubber band was placed on my leg. Once again I found myself with strange pigeons. This time the crates were placed on a large vehicle called a transporter. Once again we were taken to the coast, to a place called Weymouth, 48 miles from our loft. This was the first time I had spent a night away from home since the day when that dreaded black cat attacked us. Water was given to us but it was not easy to get to it as I was jostled by the others. Soon we were free and never had I seen so many pigeons. There were thousands of them and the sky was black with beating wings and bodies. After what seemed ages, but was only a minute or so, I got a line for home. What made me go a certain way I do not know, but I knew for certain this was the right direction. Again, in just over an hour, I touched down and went through the door into the loft and to my nest. I went to sit on the eggs but was picked up by Master Philip who took the rubber band from my leg. I soon settled down to sit on the nest and await my mate 62. A few minutes later three loftmates landed together including 62. It was not long before all were home from our first race.
Three days later I went across the aviary to see my father who told me that I had won 3rd prize. He also said that he was pleased that I was beginning to take notice of what I had been told. Once more we went to a short race of 93 miles and again we all came home. About eight days later when I was over at the aviary again passing the time of day with my father, he told me that I would soon be going across the Channel to a place called Messac in France, 244 miles away, and to heed what he had told me months before.
This proved correct, for the very next day I was placed in the basket and was soon joining up with other pigeons. This time we travelled for two days and were put down in the hold of a ferry. It was not very pleasant and I felt quite ill for a time. This was followed by a drive through a strange land and then we stopped. We had been fed and watered the day before, in fact twice for water. This time a feed and water was left before us. After a restless night, dawn broke and I heard the men outside talking. The water was emptied and the older pigeons started to line up at the front by the flap. I was at the back, not knowing what to expect. All of a sudden we were away, pushing each other to get to the opening. I was scared of all the wings around me and didn’t know which direction to take. However, once I had steadied up I felt myself being drawn to the north. I flew in a group with about 60 pigeons and the big red cheq next to me told me we would reach the Channel after about three hours of flying, and if it was clear, it would take us two hours to cross, perhaps a bit more as we were flying into a slight headwind. I had not noticed this but, once told, I began to take more notice of where the wind was and what was going on around me. A few of the batch dropped away, falling behind. I felt good and moved up to the front, with the red keeping pace with me. After a time, far ahead, I noticed the outline of the Channel. A little nervous of what lay ahead I looked across to the red, who gave a clap of his wings to tell me all was well. The water loomed up in front of us. It looked quite grey and except for a small dot on the water, there was nothing else to be seen. I kept close to the red and six others who had joined us as we flew into a light head wind. After what seemed ages I saw in the distance the outline of the English coast. Once we had reached land the pace increased, and as I looked around me, I saw two of the group pull away to the right. I then saw a familiar landmark I had passed several times before, and said goodbye to the red cheq, veering a little to the west of the small group. I was on my own and I knew that I would soon be home. After an hour I landed, to be picked up by Master Philip and have the race rubber removed from my leg. I found out later that I had done well, finishing in 5th place in my first Channel race.
That was the last time I was put in the basket that season and the rest of the summer passed by with nothing much to do but eat and sit around in the sun. I had been allowed to rear my second nest but noticed all other eggs laid by 62 did not hatch. Summer moved into Autumn and 62 and the other hens were removed from the loft. It was a sad day for me and I did not eat or fly for two days. My three mates 44, 21 and 91 felt the same but we soon accepted that it was coming winter and we were beginning to moult quite heavily. Time went by. Soon I had a new coat of feathers, and for the first time, a new set of wing flights. I now felt complete.
The winter passed and I became a two year old, although in actual fact I was slightly younger as I had been born in August 1996. We went through the same process as the year before except that when my young ones were 16 days old both they and my mate were removed. My mother told me I was now going to be on widowhood and that I would see my mate for a short time when I returned from a race and on the odd occasion before going into the basket. I crossed the Channel three times that year, scoring well and the last race I flew on the day, was 468 miles, winning 34th open CSCFC Bergerac. My masters were pleased with me and once again I was left to have a good moult.
The next spring arrived. Nesting took place and again my young and my hen were taken away. My first Channel race was from Messac, 244 miles. I arrived home in 84th place in the CSCFC. I did not race again for a few weeks, then came a complete surprise. I was put in my nestbox and my hen was brought to me. I was very happy to see her and settled down to nest. The very next morning I was taken away, placed in a basket and taken to a marking station to join other pigeons for a race from Nantes. I was not at all happy. I felt sulky and did not eat during the trip across the Channel. When we were liberated I knew which direction to take, but I just kept pace with the group, so annoyed was I to have been taken away from my hen after such a short time. I wasn’t concentrating so I didn’t realise that the wind over the Channel was very strong westerly and that I had drifted off course. The coastline we crossed over was strange to me. I had noticed a small island a few miles from land (later I found out it was the Isle of Wight). I was completely wrong. I knew that I had to turn to the west, which I did, breaking away from the group I was with. I flew about 70 miles before I saw home.
I knew I had been silly and vowed it would not happen again. Once home I was given a light feed and a warm honey drink, then reunited with my hen. Needless to say I did not win that day, but it was the making of me as a racing pigeon. I was left alone with my hen and she duly laid her eggs. Once again I thought my racing was over for the season, but I was wrong. Two weeks later I was given to Geoff Bracey and put in the basket with other pigeons. He took us to the place where I had first seen the Channel, 48 miles from home. Five times I went there in five days –it was easy. The one thing I did notice was how well I felt, full of energy. Never had I been so well both mentally and physically. The eggs hatched and I had two babies which I sat early in the mornings and in the late evenings, not letting my hen on them if I could stop her. I had three days rest then was off again, being taken to the same place near the water by Geoff, who liberated me on my own. One hour and five minutes later I was home. The next morning Master Philip put me once again in the basket , but this time I sensed a difference. I hardly had time to say goodbye to my mate but I promised her I would be back as soon as I could be. A little while before, when I had finished the five training flights of 48 miles, I had been across to the aviary to talk to my mother and she told me that at this time of the year the big national race from Pau,. 560 miles to here, takes place. She said that I had been trained for the race. It would be very hard, but I must look after myself and pace myself. This proved correct because when I was in the basket with the other pigeons the feeling was different from any other I had experienced.
After three days travelling we arrived at Pau. We had plenty of rest and water, plus a feed that afternoon. The next morning, dawn breaking saw heavy clouds and rain. The weather improved during the morning and there was much talking amongst the men outside. I knew we were soon to be let go and I moved to the front near the opening flap. Then suddenly it was open and I soared into the air with thousands of the best long distance pigeons in England for company. It took a minute to sort myself out and I found myself in a group of about 200 other pigeons. I knew I had to head north and so did the others. There was no pulling against each other. I guessed the time to be about midday and we set a good pace. The wind was light variable at the time and did not bother any of us. A blue bar on my left came from Poole and had flown the race the year before. Another cheq cock came from Kent and a small dark cheq hen said she came from Bolton and had a long fly ahead. Six hours went by and quite a few of the pigeons had dropped back. By then we had no more than 60 in our group, with another batch somewhat off the pace. Two more hours went by and I was feeling good and strong, thinking of my mate and babies. I did not know how much further I had to go, but knew it was quite a way. Several of us increased the speed until a dark mass of cloud came up in front of us, signalling rain ahead. Most of the group I was in turned to the right to try and go around the blackening sky, but myself and three others headed straight into the black clouds. I kept up the same speed, the rain hitting me as I flew into the storm. I lost sight of the other pigeons and don’t know if they fell back or pitched down, all I knew was that I had to get home. The sky was now quite dark, but I had gone through the storm and was slowly drying out. I knew the Channel was somewhere in front of me and I increased my speed yet again. I could see the lights of houses far below me and then, in the distance, I was just able to make out the French coastline. I knew I would not be crossing that night and I wondered why we had not been liberated earlier as I would have been home before dark. I flew right up to the water and looked for a safe place to land and wait for the coming dawn.
The next morning, just as dawn was breaking, I gave myself a shake and looked towards the Channel. It was very misty and not very inviting, but I knew I could not wait for it to clear, the urge to get home was too strong. I looked around for somewhere to get water and noticed that the gutter of the building I was on contained a little. A bit of a slide, a flutter down from the roof and a quick drink. It did not taste too good but I needed it as I had not had any water since leaving the transporter the day before. Into the air, one circle and I headed into the mist of the dreaded English Channel. I kept a good height, and after flying for about 1 ½ hours, the visibility improved and soon I could see the English coastline in the distance. I felt good and knew that I would soon be home. Still keeping a good height, I felt the wind on my back so it had turned south, south-west. On reaching land I veered to the north-west and soon picked up familiar landmarks. The morning was quite fresh and as the village showed up in front of me, I looked down to see my two masters waiting. The loft doors open, I flew over their heads into my nestbox. By the time they reached me I was trying to cover my babies. I was picked up gently by Master Philip and the race rubber was removed. Then I was given a warm honey drink and a little Hormoform to eat. Later that day a lot of strange people came to look at me. They were obviously pleased and excited so I knew that I had done something good. This was a pleasure for me as, whatever had happened, I had made my two masters very happy and repaid them for their loving care. I had won the Blue Riband race of the year, the NFC from Pau by 34 yards per minute over the second pigeon.
(The events mentioned,including the move to High Littleton, the black cat and the preparation and training tosses, are all facts, and the 3 cocks 44, 21 and 19, are all top winning pigeons in classic and national racing to Pau.)
Steve Patrick -- Patrick Bros' Loft
