Home is where the heart is; just ask a pigeon.
The birds’ instinctive ability – to return consistently to the precise spot where they hatched – has for centuries made them indispensable messengers in both war and peace. Their speed, executing that homing instinct, has also opened the door to racing competitions among modern pigeon fanciers.
Seagrave’s Andy Pallotta has raised and raced pigeons for as long as he can remember. Andy’s father, Mike, shared his own feathered passion as a means of occupying his son when the family relocated to a more rural setting.
“It fascinated me that a one-pound bird could find his way home over distances of hundreds of miles,” Andy recalls of his hobby’s beginnings. “My dad encouraged me, and I found I enjoyed the competition.”
In many respects, pigeon racing closely resembles the Sport of Kings. There are rigourous requirements of both avian and human. Elite racing birds – bred with desirable “bloodlines” like horses – need training and practice, as well as careful breeding; fanciers require skill, knowledge, and must invest considerable time and effort. To be successful, ultimately all factors must work in harmony.
Andy Pallotta holds the male father pigeon of two baby pigeons, being protected in their nest by the mother.
Pigeons breed in the early months of the year. Seven days into the chick’s young life, he is (painlessly) banded on one foot to document ownership and year of birth; this information registered with the Ontario Racing Pigeon Union. Within a month, the fledglings are ready to begin flying and, with it, their race-training program.
The birds initially learn the limits of their “landing board,” a 4x8 sheet of plywood adjacent to their loft’s entry. Their early time airborne begins with short, then ever-expanding, circles around home. Andy conditions his young birds to return on command by forming an association between his whistle and the reward which awaits each obedient returnee – food.
“After two months, they disappear from sight for minutes, then hours at a time,” he says. “Twice daily, I release them from cages 50-60 miles away.”
Andy watches each youngster with an experienced, skillful eye. Not every bird, he explains, is suited to every distance; like human runners, some prove superior sprinters while others do better at marathon distance. Competitive races range from 100 to 800 miles.
The mother with her two young squab.
Other factors that affect race results and the kind of bird who will prosper. “Weather, especially wind and heat, are critical. But in the end, it comes down to conditioning.” Andy inspects each bird before a race with an expert’s eye – and touch.
“A fleshy, rounded breast, light weight, and shiny, unruffled feathers indicate a bird who’s fit, rested, and ready to race,” he says, stroking one of his birds lightly to illustrate. “I also watch them in the loft before putting them in competition to ensure they’re alert and active.”
A transport collects competitors’ birds the night before the race. Using GPS, the driver locates a pre-scouted site. If the weather’s agreeable the next morning, up to 1,500 pigeons take flight at once… and they’re off!
Observing weather conditions, Andy can predict his birds’ approximate arrival time. Pigeons, remarkably, can maintain speeds of 80 kilometres per hour on a windless day, and can reach 120 km/hr with a tailwind.
The margin of victory will often be measured in scant seconds. Within sight of home, Andy releases “droppers” – birds who fly at close range to lure incoming racers – to minimize time otherwise wasted in circling. An electronic band on each bird’s foot marks its return time on re-entering the loft, though a computer will have the final say on the day’s winner.
“The computer tabulates each bird’s velocity in metres per minute. That equalizes the results, since every fancier’s ‘finish line’ is a different distance from the start.”
The racing season runs from May to July for “old birds” (those over one year), with young birds (born that year) from August to October.
Andy’s most successful season saw him capture half of his club’s races and register three wins among “combines,” which gather participants from other regions.
Like horses, a racing pigeon’s dotage – following 4-5 years’ competition – means retiring to stud. (Nice work if you can get it, one bird told me with a grin.) At this point in their lives, Andy finally names each.
“I try not to develop attachments to the racing birds,” he explains. “There’s always the chance of loss from hawks and wires every time they’re out.”
Andy’s 100-odd birds demand 12 months a year attention, though their maintenance schedule eases after the race season. The birds must of course still be fed – a 12-grain mixture – and the loft cleaned daily. Its mostly spotless floors and surprisingly fresh smell are testament to his relentless commitment.
“I keep a breeze blowing through the loft,” he says. “Just like us, the birds like a clean smell.”
He chuckles at that cue, as if sensing the subject of pigeons’ tainted inner city reputation had to surface eventually. His answer provides something of a twist on the traditional tale.
“Discovery Channel interviewed me for their ’10 Worst Pests in the World’ series. I told the other side of the story: that my birds are trained to be quite clean.”
So is pigeon racing a hobby or a sport to Andy? He’s used the words interchangeably during our discussion, and takes a moment to ponder the difference.
“From day to day, training and cleaning, it’s my hobby,” he concludes before quickly adding: “And on weekends when I’m competing, it’s a sport.”
Just like the birds he tends, powerful unseen forces draw Andy Pallotta regularly back to the pigeon loft. A piece of his heart lives there, too.
By Scott Mercer
Focus on Scugog
Personalities
