Written by: Malcolm Ellis
For the first thirty years that I had homing pigeons one of the most arduous tasks was that of settling the youngsters. I was always terrified that if I kept the birds too long in the loft, they would stray, and if not long enough, they might not be sufficiently oriented to the location to properly settle in when first liberated to fly freely about the premises. I had a technique that seemed to work pretty well. I would take each youngster when too young to fly strongly to a location immediately in front of the landing board and toss it onto the board, and then gently herd it into the traps so that it would be familiar with the technique of entrance. After a few lessons I would then allow all of the young birds into a "settling cage" that was placed on the landing board where they could come and go. I would allow the birds to eventually walk out and in again without the "settling cage". I would water and feed them on the landing board, inside the "settling cage", and then coax them into the traps. All in all it was quite a long drawn out routine.
One day, about twenty-five years ago, a fellow fancier walked into my back yard as I was playing my "settling game". He smiled and asked if I was having lots of fun, to which I answered that it wasn't fun, but necessary. He asked me why. I responded with the patent answer that had been given me when I asked some old-timers for the proper way to settle young birds. I saw him smile the smile of indulgence and asked him if he knew a better way. He responded that he didn't "settle young birds". . I knew that he was pulling my leg, and I let him know so in no uncertain terms. Then he got serious and said that he wasn't kidding at all and that tomorrow he was going to let his young bird team out for the first time. I said something that impugned his sanity, and he invited me over to watch. I wouldn't have missed it for the world!
I was in his back yard at the appointed hour certain to witness one of the greatest pigeon disasters of all time. He asked me to count the number of young birds that were in the young bird section. There were 55. He opened the door that had bobs allowing the birds to go to the landing board, and the birds dutifully walked out onto the landing board. At first the birds merely looked around, and then one or two took to the air, and all of a sudden they all took to wing, flying to all points of the compass. My eyes must have looked like coffee cup saucers because Bob started to laugh, and then invited me in to the kitchen to share some toast and juice with him on the back porch while watching the birds. The sky was filled with birds flying in every direction. Once in a while one would land right in the middle of the lawn, one or two hit the landing board, and a couple ran into the loft through the trap, but most continued to fly haphazardly back and forth, some right at roof top height and others well up in the sky, with no two seeming to be together. After about a half hour Bob got up and said that he was going to go to the beach for the rest of the day. I went home completely convinced that I had just witnessed one of the most insane acts that a serious pigeon fancier could commit.
That evening I called Bob to ask how many birds he had in his young bird loft. He responded that he hadn't counted but it looked to be about one half, but, that he expected to have at least two thirds by the next night and by the middle of the week to have them all in the loft. I didn't say anything. I was completely convinced of his madness.
On Wednesday, the middle of the week, I dropped by just before dusk to prove my conviction of his insanity. As I walked around the side of the house and into the back yard I was stopped by the sight of Bob slowly coaxing a bird through the young bird trap. He turned upon hearing my steps and having closed the trap as the bird entered, announced that bird to be the last one, number fifty-five. Of course I didn't believe him! I went into the loft, opened the door from the hallway and began to count noses. There were fifty-five. Needless to say, I was amazed, if not convinced. I was also intrigued. I asked him to explain how he did it.
This is how he explained it, it is the system that I have followed every year since, with but a few changes, which I will reveal after the exposition of his methods.
As soon as the youngsters are weaned, which he did quite late, about the time that the parents next clutch of eggs were to hatch, he would transfer the young birds into the young bird loft. The young bird loft had access to the landing board, equipped with a cage that allowed the youngsters to sun and look about. He also allowed the young birds to take daily baths on the board. At feeding time he would force all of the young birds out of the loft so that in order to eat they had to trap as he called them in. If they didn't trap quickly their selection of seed was somewhat reduced, and he said that very soon they would trap like quick silver. He continued this routine, twice daily, in the morning and evening. To determine the proper day for the grand release, he would count backward twelve weeks from the first young bird race. The day in question should be windless, and preferably a little on the warm side, cloudless not required, but not darkly over cast with hints of impending rain. That was it.
I asked him why he went to the beach. His answer was the he couldn't stand to watch his beloved young birds flying like wild bees in every direction, despite the fact that he knew, from several years experience that in the end he would have as many or more young birds for the training basket as he had when he "babied" them as I had been doing. I wanted to argue, but he pointed out that his greatest losses "off of the loft" weren't from the early hatches, but from the later birds, which he had always attributed to their youth. He had later concluded that the biggest cause of losing young birds was their getting off the loft and ranging with their loft mates of more experience, and then getting caught up in a clash with other flocks, et al, and becoming confused. His final comment was something to the effect that homing pigeons come home, and if they don't come home when already there, can they really be homing pigeons, let alone racing homing pigeons? I've followed his lead for about 25 years now, and wouldn't consider returning to my old ways of being too careful, and perhaps killing them with kindness.
I have had to add a couple of provisos due to a few new loft management techniques. It is essential that, if one is practicing either extended hours of light, or reduced light hours in the young bird loft for molt management, that midnight and midday be sacroscant, with the dark period, be it only an hour, be at exactly the time that would be twelve hours after the apogee of the sun between sunrise and sundown, at one's loft location, not twelve noon on the clock. Conversely, when practicing darkening of the loft, there must be a period of light, the midpoint of that period being at the apogee of the sun at midday. Thus the internal clock of the birds is not reprogrammed by interference with the natural availability of the sun as one of the several navigational tools. Additionally, one should be aware of any sun spot activity immediately prior to the target day for release. If there has been any sun spot action, postpone the settling event for a week.
As far as training of the young birds for races, that is another tale, but one can embark on that project as soon as the young birds are routing freely, and are out of sight for more than fifteen minutes at a time.
Keep 'em flying.
Malcolm
For the first thirty years that I had homing pigeons one of the most arduous tasks was that of settling the youngsters. I was always terrified that if I kept the birds too long in the loft, they would stray, and if not long enough, they might not be sufficiently oriented to the location to properly settle in when first liberated to fly freely about the premises. I had a technique that seemed to work pretty well. I would take each youngster when too young to fly strongly to a location immediately in front of the landing board and toss it onto the board, and then gently herd it into the traps so that it would be familiar with the technique of entrance. After a few lessons I would then allow all of the young birds into a "settling cage" that was placed on the landing board where they could come and go. I would allow the birds to eventually walk out and in again without the "settling cage". I would water and feed them on the landing board, inside the "settling cage", and then coax them into the traps. All in all it was quite a long drawn out routine.
One day, about twenty-five years ago, a fellow fancier walked into my back yard as I was playing my "settling game". He smiled and asked if I was having lots of fun, to which I answered that it wasn't fun, but necessary. He asked me why. I responded with the patent answer that had been given me when I asked some old-timers for the proper way to settle young birds. I saw him smile the smile of indulgence and asked him if he knew a better way. He responded that he didn't "settle young birds". . I knew that he was pulling my leg, and I let him know so in no uncertain terms. Then he got serious and said that he wasn't kidding at all and that tomorrow he was going to let his young bird team out for the first time. I said something that impugned his sanity, and he invited me over to watch. I wouldn't have missed it for the world!
I was in his back yard at the appointed hour certain to witness one of the greatest pigeon disasters of all time. He asked me to count the number of young birds that were in the young bird section. There were 55. He opened the door that had bobs allowing the birds to go to the landing board, and the birds dutifully walked out onto the landing board. At first the birds merely looked around, and then one or two took to the air, and all of a sudden they all took to wing, flying to all points of the compass. My eyes must have looked like coffee cup saucers because Bob started to laugh, and then invited me in to the kitchen to share some toast and juice with him on the back porch while watching the birds. The sky was filled with birds flying in every direction. Once in a while one would land right in the middle of the lawn, one or two hit the landing board, and a couple ran into the loft through the trap, but most continued to fly haphazardly back and forth, some right at roof top height and others well up in the sky, with no two seeming to be together. After about a half hour Bob got up and said that he was going to go to the beach for the rest of the day. I went home completely convinced that I had just witnessed one of the most insane acts that a serious pigeon fancier could commit.
That evening I called Bob to ask how many birds he had in his young bird loft. He responded that he hadn't counted but it looked to be about one half, but, that he expected to have at least two thirds by the next night and by the middle of the week to have them all in the loft. I didn't say anything. I was completely convinced of his madness.
On Wednesday, the middle of the week, I dropped by just before dusk to prove my conviction of his insanity. As I walked around the side of the house and into the back yard I was stopped by the sight of Bob slowly coaxing a bird through the young bird trap. He turned upon hearing my steps and having closed the trap as the bird entered, announced that bird to be the last one, number fifty-five. Of course I didn't believe him! I went into the loft, opened the door from the hallway and began to count noses. There were fifty-five. Needless to say, I was amazed, if not convinced. I was also intrigued. I asked him to explain how he did it.
This is how he explained it, it is the system that I have followed every year since, with but a few changes, which I will reveal after the exposition of his methods.
As soon as the youngsters are weaned, which he did quite late, about the time that the parents next clutch of eggs were to hatch, he would transfer the young birds into the young bird loft. The young bird loft had access to the landing board, equipped with a cage that allowed the youngsters to sun and look about. He also allowed the young birds to take daily baths on the board. At feeding time he would force all of the young birds out of the loft so that in order to eat they had to trap as he called them in. If they didn't trap quickly their selection of seed was somewhat reduced, and he said that very soon they would trap like quick silver. He continued this routine, twice daily, in the morning and evening. To determine the proper day for the grand release, he would count backward twelve weeks from the first young bird race. The day in question should be windless, and preferably a little on the warm side, cloudless not required, but not darkly over cast with hints of impending rain. That was it.
I asked him why he went to the beach. His answer was the he couldn't stand to watch his beloved young birds flying like wild bees in every direction, despite the fact that he knew, from several years experience that in the end he would have as many or more young birds for the training basket as he had when he "babied" them as I had been doing. I wanted to argue, but he pointed out that his greatest losses "off of the loft" weren't from the early hatches, but from the later birds, which he had always attributed to their youth. He had later concluded that the biggest cause of losing young birds was their getting off the loft and ranging with their loft mates of more experience, and then getting caught up in a clash with other flocks, et al, and becoming confused. His final comment was something to the effect that homing pigeons come home, and if they don't come home when already there, can they really be homing pigeons, let alone racing homing pigeons? I've followed his lead for about 25 years now, and wouldn't consider returning to my old ways of being too careful, and perhaps killing them with kindness.
I have had to add a couple of provisos due to a few new loft management techniques. It is essential that, if one is practicing either extended hours of light, or reduced light hours in the young bird loft for molt management, that midnight and midday be sacroscant, with the dark period, be it only an hour, be at exactly the time that would be twelve hours after the apogee of the sun between sunrise and sundown, at one's loft location, not twelve noon on the clock. Conversely, when practicing darkening of the loft, there must be a period of light, the midpoint of that period being at the apogee of the sun at midday. Thus the internal clock of the birds is not reprogrammed by interference with the natural availability of the sun as one of the several navigational tools. Additionally, one should be aware of any sun spot activity immediately prior to the target day for release. If there has been any sun spot action, postpone the settling event for a week.
As far as training of the young birds for races, that is another tale, but one can embark on that project as soon as the young birds are routing freely, and are out of sight for more than fifteen minutes at a time.
Keep 'em flying.
Malcolm
