Friday, 27 March 2015
Thursday, 26 March 2015
8 The Squadron is Feeling Better
The following day brought good news. Ten birds were back on their feet and the seriously ill birds were all looking a lot better. “The magic seaweed is doing the trick,” said Polly. “I thought it would,” replied Tubby. "I decided to cook some of it," said Polly, "it turned out very tasty and all the boys ate some. Brighton, the sea gull was hanging around for ages because he could smell the sea so I gave him some to sample. He devoured it in seconds, pointed his beak in the air and kept making those loud sea gull noises."
By mid-morning Tubby decided it was time to return to Rosehill. “We have done all we can here Nigel.” he explained, ”we must get back to 'The Firs'.” “We cannot thank you and your family enough old chap,” said Nigel. “We will always be indebted to you.”
At that moment Percy entered the loft. ”The Commander also wishes to thank Tubby and his family for their good work and to let you know that from now on only organic food will be given to the Squadron,” said Percy. “Ducky also announced that there is to be a Celebration Party. It will be in two weeks time when everyone has recovered and regained their strength. He suggests Rosehill Downs on the first Saturday of next month at 1200 hours.”
“Lots of food I hope,” said Brighton, “I can’t wait.”
The three birds then said their final goodbyes and flew back to Rosehill.
Over the following week Peter looked out each day hoping to see a fly past but there was not one. Then the following Monday at 11 o’clock the Squadron made a fly past. It was a small group on the first day and as each day passed the number of birds increased. The day before the Celebration the formation was back to its full complement of twenty-one birds.
On the morning of the celebration Wing Commander Drake phoned ‘Carters’, Rosehill's main greengrocer.
“Is that Carter?” inquired the Commander. “Speaking,” replied Mr Carter. “Drake here, Wing Commander Drake; I’d like a wide selection of organic fruit, nuts, seeds and vegetables for one hundred guests of mine,” said the Commander. “And I’d like the food delivered to the tall trees at the top of Rosehill Downs by 11 30 hours this morning. You can send the invoice to me at Malvern HQ he added.” “There will be no charge,” said Mr Carter. “My father served under your command in the 2nd World War. You piloted a Lancaster and the pair of you were shot down in France and taken prisoner by the Germans. Somehow you and my dad managed to escape, met up with the resistance movement and found your way back to England.” “’Curly’ Carter, you are Curly’s son, how is your dad?” inquired the Commander. “I’m afraid he died a few years back,” said Mr Carter. “Sorry to hear that,” said the Commander. “He was a dear friend of mine but we lost touch with one another after the War. Look, when you deliver the food to the Downs stay on a while, we must have a chat. Please ensure you are alone though as my guests are pigeons. My racing boys are very accustomed to people but wood pigeons get very nervous when humans are about."
 |
| Boiled Wakame |
By mid-morning Tubby decided it was time to return to Rosehill. “We have done all we can here Nigel.” he explained, ”we must get back to 'The Firs'.” “We cannot thank you and your family enough old chap,” said Nigel. “We will always be indebted to you.”
At that moment Percy entered the loft. ”The Commander also wishes to thank Tubby and his family for their good work and to let you know that from now on only organic food will be given to the Squadron,” said Percy. “Ducky also announced that there is to be a Celebration Party. It will be in two weeks time when everyone has recovered and regained their strength. He suggests Rosehill Downs on the first Saturday of next month at 1200 hours.”
 |
| Rosehill Downs, venue for the celebration party |
“Lots of food I hope,” said Brighton, “I can’t wait.”
The three birds then said their final goodbyes and flew back to Rosehill.
Over the following week Peter looked out each day hoping to see a fly past but there was not one. Then the following Monday at 11 o’clock the Squadron made a fly past. It was a small group on the first day and as each day passed the number of birds increased. The day before the Celebration the formation was back to its full complement of twenty-one birds.
On the morning of the celebration Wing Commander Drake phoned ‘Carters’, Rosehill's main greengrocer.
 |
| Carters of Rosehill |
“Is that Carter?” inquired the Commander. “Speaking,” replied Mr Carter. “Drake here, Wing Commander Drake; I’d like a wide selection of organic fruit, nuts, seeds and vegetables for one hundred guests of mine,” said the Commander. “And I’d like the food delivered to the tall trees at the top of Rosehill Downs by 11 30 hours this morning. You can send the invoice to me at Malvern HQ he added.” “There will be no charge,” said Mr Carter. “My father served under your command in the 2nd World War. You piloted a Lancaster and the pair of you were shot down in France and taken prisoner by the Germans. Somehow you and my dad managed to escape, met up with the resistance movement and found your way back to England.” “’Curly’ Carter, you are Curly’s son, how is your dad?” inquired the Commander. “I’m afraid he died a few years back,” said Mr Carter. “Sorry to hear that,” said the Commander. “He was a dear friend of mine but we lost touch with one another after the War. Look, when you deliver the food to the Downs stay on a while, we must have a chat. Please ensure you are alone though as my guests are pigeons. My racing boys are very accustomed to people but wood pigeons get very nervous when humans are about."
To be continued...
Photographic Acknowledgements
The above images were provided, with thanks, from the following organisations:
Boiled Wakame - en.wikipedia.org
Rosehill Downs - www.treeshart.com
Boiled Wakame - en.wikipedia.org
Rosehill Downs - www.treeshart.com
Tuesday, 24 March 2015
7 The Magic Seaweed
Another pigeon died overnight but four had recovered and were back on there feet. The current situation is that sixteen birds are poorly but showing signs of recovery, while another sixteen birds are still seriously ill.
Tubby, Polly and Peter continued the good work of preparing food, caring for the sick and helping Brighton keep the loft clean and tidy.
By mid afternoon Percy had spotted something through his telescope. “It’s a flock of birds on the horizon,” he said, “but too distant to identify yet.” A few minutes later he was able to confirm. “Yes they are definitely racing pigeons,” he said, “and quite a big group by the look of it."
As the flock came closer Peter was able to identify Nigel and Uncle Roy at the head of an arrow shaped formation which must have included twenty to thirty birds.
Soon they landed on the Commander’s lawn. ”Good to see you boys,” said Tubby, ”I see you brought some pals with you Nigel.” “Yes,” said Nigel, ”once word got around that the SBS were in trouble everybody wanted to get involved. There is a representative here from every pigeon racing club in Devon and Cornwall. Each flyer has magic black seaweed stuck to his legs.” “OK,” said Polly, “no time to waste, lets get the medicine to the sick as quickly as we can.”
While Peter and his parents encouraged the sick birds to eat the seaweed the racing pigeons rested from their long flight. “Loads of food here,” said Percy, “help yourself.”
Local pigeons were still delivering organic food all the time so there was plenty to share out. The West Country birds tucked in.
During the afternoon Peter and his parents were resting outside the loft when Percy turned up. "Wakame,” said Percy. “What did you say?” inquired Tubby. “Wakame, the magic black seaweed
stuff is called Wakame,” said Percy. “Ducky has just identified it. It’s a rich source of minerals and apparently it binds with heavy metals in our intestines and detoxifies the body which cures us. He says sailors from Devon and Cornwall have taken it to sea for generations. Sir Francis Drake, the first Englishmen to circumnavigate the globe took in with him in 1577." “Well,” said Polly, ”now we know! As long as it makes those boys better I don’t care a jot about its funny name or its history.”
That evening the racing pigeons prepared to return to the West Country. “Do they have to go already?” asked Peter. “Oh yes said Nigel they must be back in their lofts before the morning otherwise they will be assumed to have gone AWOL.” “What does AWOL mean?” asked Peter. “Absent Without Leave,” chipped in Percy, “a very serious military offence.”
“Thank you Uncle Roy for delivering the magic seaweed,” said Peter, ”and for bringing so many West Country racers.” “Ere it was our dooty my ansome,” said Uncle Roy, “ in times of trouble all us pigeons ave to stick together.”
Then the thirty or so birds with Roy in the front took to the air and flew towards the setting sun.
Tubby, Polly and Peter continued the good work of preparing food, caring for the sick and helping Brighton keep the loft clean and tidy.
By mid afternoon Percy had spotted something through his telescope. “It’s a flock of birds on the horizon,” he said, “but too distant to identify yet.” A few minutes later he was able to confirm. “Yes they are definitely racing pigeons,” he said, “and quite a big group by the look of it."
As the flock came closer Peter was able to identify Nigel and Uncle Roy at the head of an arrow shaped formation which must have included twenty to thirty birds.
 |
| Help arrives |
Soon they landed on the Commander’s lawn. ”Good to see you boys,” said Tubby, ”I see you brought some pals with you Nigel.” “Yes,” said Nigel, ”once word got around that the SBS were in trouble everybody wanted to get involved. There is a representative here from every pigeon racing club in Devon and Cornwall. Each flyer has magic black seaweed stuck to his legs.” “OK,” said Polly, “no time to waste, lets get the medicine to the sick as quickly as we can.”
While Peter and his parents encouraged the sick birds to eat the seaweed the racing pigeons rested from their long flight. “Loads of food here,” said Percy, “help yourself.”
Local pigeons were still delivering organic food all the time so there was plenty to share out. The West Country birds tucked in.
During the afternoon Peter and his parents were resting outside the loft when Percy turned up. "Wakame,” said Percy. “What did you say?” inquired Tubby. “Wakame, the magic black seaweed
 |
| Wakame, the magic seaweed |
stuff is called Wakame,” said Percy. “Ducky has just identified it. It’s a rich source of minerals and apparently it binds with heavy metals in our intestines and detoxifies the body which cures us. He says sailors from Devon and Cornwall have taken it to sea for generations. Sir Francis Drake, the first Englishmen to circumnavigate the globe took in with him in 1577." “Well,” said Polly, ”now we know! As long as it makes those boys better I don’t care a jot about its funny name or its history.”
That evening the racing pigeons prepared to return to the West Country. “Do they have to go already?” asked Peter. “Oh yes said Nigel they must be back in their lofts before the morning otherwise they will be assumed to have gone AWOL.” “What does AWOL mean?” asked Peter. “Absent Without Leave,” chipped in Percy, “a very serious military offence.”
“Thank you Uncle Roy for delivering the magic seaweed,” said Peter, ”and for bringing so many West Country racers.” “Ere it was our dooty my ansome,” said Uncle Roy, “ in times of trouble all us pigeons ave to stick together.”
Then the thirty or so birds with Roy in the front took to the air and flew towards the setting sun.
 |
| West Country Pigeons return home |
To be continued.....
Photographic Acknowledgements
The above images were provided, with thanks, from the following organisations:
Flock of pigeons - -all-freedownload.com
Wakame - aliexpress.com
Sunset pigeons - view.stern.de
Flock of pigeons - -all-freedownload.com
Wakame - aliexpress.com
Sunset pigeons - view.stern.de
Friday, 20 March 2015
6 Rallying the Troops
Next morning at daybreak Tubby flew off and met all the main pigeon families in Rosehill. As Chairman of the Pigeon Council he announced that there was to be an extraordinary meeting of the Council to take place at 'The Firs' at 10 o’clock that day.
Thirty pigeons attended the meeting and Tubby informed them of the plight of the SBS. He asked that everyone fly off to different towns and villages and pass on the distressing news. He also told them to encourage everyone they met to fly to more distant parts and inform other pigeon communities. He stressed that the need is for organic fruit, vegetables and herbs to be delivered to Malvern HQ as soon as possible.
Tubby, Polly and Peter then flew off to Malvern HQ to see what assistance they could provide. Surprisingly Nigel met them at the entrance to the loft. “How are you Nigel?” inquired Tubby. “A lot better Tubby,” said Nigel, “thanks to that salad stuff you provided yesterday. Got some bad news though two of the boys passed away last night; I hope your salads work for the rest of the boys.” “I’ll take over the kitchen,” said Polly. “I’ll make sure everyone gets proper food from now on; we will get the boys better.”
That day birds arrived every ten minutes or so, passed on their good wishes to the Squadron and left gifts of fresh fruit and vegetables. You could tell from the different pigeon accents that the birds were coming in from all over England and Wales. There was even two from Scotland and one from France who brought garlic.
As the evening drew in, Percy consoled the Commander, Brighton flew off to see his mates and Tubby, Polly, Peter and Nigel sat down for a rest and a meal. Barely had they started on their food when Percy entered the room. “More bad news,” he said, “another flyer has passed away. The organic food seems to be working for some of the chaps but not for others.”
“Well there is only one thing left that we can do,” said Polly. “What’s that Mum?” inquired Peter. “The boys must have the magic black seaweed,” said Polly, “it cures every ailment known to pigeons.” “That true,” said Tubby, “but it comes from Whitsand Bay in Cornwall at a secret location known only to Uncle Roy in Plymouth and a few Cornish birds; how can we contact him?”
“Your not talking about Flying Officer Roy Wotton by any chance are you?" inquired Nigel. “Yes,” said Tubby, “that’s his full name.” “We did our basic training together at RAF Chivenor, at Barnstaple, many years ago; he flies for the Plymouth Arrows,” added Nigel. “That’s him,” said Tubby. “Roy is an old pal of mine, I’ll fly down there and see him,” added Nigel. “Your too weak after your illness,” said Polly, “you will never cover that distance.” “Duty calls Polly,” said Nigel, “it has to be done.” “His loft is at Plymstock,” said Tubby, “overlooking the River Plym. You can’t miss it,” added Tubby, “for some obscure reason their human carer has painted the loft green, black and white.”
“Well no time to waste,” said Nigel, “see you tomorrow sometime.” And with that farewell he flew off into the evening sky.
 |
| Meeting of the Pigeon Council at 'The Firs' |
Thirty pigeons attended the meeting and Tubby informed them of the plight of the SBS. He asked that everyone fly off to different towns and villages and pass on the distressing news. He also told them to encourage everyone they met to fly to more distant parts and inform other pigeon communities. He stressed that the need is for organic fruit, vegetables and herbs to be delivered to Malvern HQ as soon as possible.
Tubby, Polly and Peter then flew off to Malvern HQ to see what assistance they could provide. Surprisingly Nigel met them at the entrance to the loft. “How are you Nigel?” inquired Tubby. “A lot better Tubby,” said Nigel, “thanks to that salad stuff you provided yesterday. Got some bad news though two of the boys passed away last night; I hope your salads work for the rest of the boys.” “I’ll take over the kitchen,” said Polly. “I’ll make sure everyone gets proper food from now on; we will get the boys better.”
That day birds arrived every ten minutes or so, passed on their good wishes to the Squadron and left gifts of fresh fruit and vegetables. You could tell from the different pigeon accents that the birds were coming in from all over England and Wales. There was even two from Scotland and one from France who brought garlic.
As the evening drew in, Percy consoled the Commander, Brighton flew off to see his mates and Tubby, Polly, Peter and Nigel sat down for a rest and a meal. Barely had they started on their food when Percy entered the room. “More bad news,” he said, “another flyer has passed away. The organic food seems to be working for some of the chaps but not for others.”
“Well there is only one thing left that we can do,” said Polly. “What’s that Mum?” inquired Peter. “The boys must have the magic black seaweed,” said Polly, “it cures every ailment known to pigeons.” “That true,” said Tubby, “but it comes from Whitsand Bay in Cornwall at a secret location known only to Uncle Roy in Plymouth and a few Cornish birds; how can we contact him?”
 |
| Whitsand Bay, Cornwall |
“Your not talking about Flying Officer Roy Wotton by any chance are you?" inquired Nigel. “Yes,” said Tubby, “that’s his full name.” “We did our basic training together at RAF Chivenor, at Barnstaple, many years ago; he flies for the Plymouth Arrows,” added Nigel. “That’s him,” said Tubby. “Roy is an old pal of mine, I’ll fly down there and see him,” added Nigel. “Your too weak after your illness,” said Polly, “you will never cover that distance.” “Duty calls Polly,” said Nigel, “it has to be done.” “His loft is at Plymstock,” said Tubby, “overlooking the River Plym. You can’t miss it,” added Tubby, “for some obscure reason their human carer has painted the loft green, black and white.”
 |
| An inlet of the River Plym near Plymstock |
“Well no time to waste,” said Nigel, “see you tomorrow sometime.” And with that farewell he flew off into the evening sky.
To be continued....
Photographic Acknowledgements
The above images were provided, with thanks, from the following organisations:
Whitsand Bay - whitsandbayhotel.co.uk
Plymstock - plymouthdailyphoto.blogspot.com
Whitsand Bay - whitsandbayhotel.co.uk
Plymstock - plymouthdailyphoto.blogspot.com
Wednesday, 18 March 2015
5 Bad Food is Discovered
Peter and his Dad went to see Nigel at Malvern HQ. “Peter and Tubby,” said Nigel, “good to see you chaps; I’m afraid I’m a bit crook at the moment. Off my food, bit of a temperature and sleeping a lot, not too well at all really.” “We wondered why the Squadron had not been doing the daily fly past and so came over to see if there was a problem,” said Peter’s Dad. “Now we realise why the boys are not flying. Have a good sleep Nigel we will do what we can to get all of you boys better again.”
Peter and his Dad returned to Percy the Mynah bird who was now talking to Brighton the sea gull. “Yes the airmen do look in a bad way Percy,” said Peter’s Dad, “but you two boys seem healthy enough.” “Oh yes we are fine," said Brighton.
Peter looked around the loft and saw the boxes of food on the side. One was marked GM Maize and the other High-Energy Pigeon Pellets. “What does GM mean?" asked Peter.
His Dad frowned and inspected the labels on the boxes. “GM,” said Peter’s Dad, “means Genetically Modified, it’s an experimental unproven technology."
Most humans refuse to eat GM food so I do not see why us pigeons should be subjected to it. And as for these high-energy pellets, listen to this. Peter’s Dad read the label on the box of pellets:
CONTENTS: Artificial Colourings
Food Additives
Protein of Animal Origin
“Pigeons are vegetarians,” said Peter’s Dad.” "We should not be eating other animals; these pellets may even be made from dead birds." “That’s probably why me and Percy have not become ill,” said Brighton. “We don’t eat that pigeon fodder rubbish. Percy lives in the house with the Commander and is spoilt rotten with fresh fruit, seeds, nuts and millet. I always fly off in the evening to see my mates and we find lots of tasty morsels like fish and chips, pizzas and curries which humans throw away.”
“Percy you must explain to Commander Drake that it’s the food that is causing the problem,” said Peter’s Dad, “and it needs to be destroyed. Brighton is there any organic farms near here?” inquired Peter’s Dad. “Yes,” replied Brighton, “there is one half a mile away.”
“OK,” said Peter’s Dad, “we must collect as much natural organic fruit, vegetables and herbs as we can today before it gets dark and bring them back to the loft. The boys need to eat some proper food.”
Percy went off to explain to the Commander that it is the food that is making the airmen ill. The other three birds made numerous trips to and from the organic farm and collected as much food as they could before darkness fell.
“OK,” said Peter’s Dad to Brighton, “try to get the boys to eat the organic food we have collected. There is nothing more we can do here today so Peter and I will return home to Rosehill. We shall be back tomorrow with more helpers.”
As they flew off they noticed the Commander had lit a bonfire. He was burning the pellets and GM maize.
Peter and his Dad returned to Percy the Mynah bird who was now talking to Brighton the sea gull. “Yes the airmen do look in a bad way Percy,” said Peter’s Dad, “but you two boys seem healthy enough.” “Oh yes we are fine," said Brighton.
Peter looked around the loft and saw the boxes of food on the side. One was marked GM Maize and the other High-Energy Pigeon Pellets. “What does GM mean?" asked Peter.
His Dad frowned and inspected the labels on the boxes. “GM,” said Peter’s Dad, “means Genetically Modified, it’s an experimental unproven technology."
Most humans refuse to eat GM food so I do not see why us pigeons should be subjected to it. And as for these high-energy pellets, listen to this. Peter’s Dad read the label on the box of pellets:
CONTENTS: Artificial Colourings
Food Additives
Protein of Animal Origin
“Pigeons are vegetarians,” said Peter’s Dad.” "We should not be eating other animals; these pellets may even be made from dead birds." “That’s probably why me and Percy have not become ill,” said Brighton. “We don’t eat that pigeon fodder rubbish. Percy lives in the house with the Commander and is spoilt rotten with fresh fruit, seeds, nuts and millet. I always fly off in the evening to see my mates and we find lots of tasty morsels like fish and chips, pizzas and curries which humans throw away.”
“Percy you must explain to Commander Drake that it’s the food that is causing the problem,” said Peter’s Dad, “and it needs to be destroyed. Brighton is there any organic farms near here?” inquired Peter’s Dad. “Yes,” replied Brighton, “there is one half a mile away.”
 |
| The local Organic Farm |
“OK,” said Peter’s Dad, “we must collect as much natural organic fruit, vegetables and herbs as we can today before it gets dark and bring them back to the loft. The boys need to eat some proper food.”
Percy went off to explain to the Commander that it is the food that is making the airmen ill. The other three birds made numerous trips to and from the organic farm and collected as much food as they could before darkness fell.
“OK,” said Peter’s Dad to Brighton, “try to get the boys to eat the organic food we have collected. There is nothing more we can do here today so Peter and I will return home to Rosehill. We shall be back tomorrow with more helpers.”
As they flew off they noticed the Commander had lit a bonfire. He was burning the pellets and GM maize.
 |
| Commander Drake burns the suspect food |
To be continued......
Photographic Acknowledgements
The above images were provided, with thanks, from the following organisations:
GM sign - alamy.com
Organic Farm - organic-center.org
Bonfire - Garden Picture Library
GM sign - alamy.com
Organic Farm - organic-center.org
Bonfire - Garden Picture Library
Saturday, 14 March 2015
4 Off to Malvern HQ
Peter could not sleep that night. He was looking forward to Tuesday morning when he would see the SBS’s fly past and a signal from Nigel. The airmen arrived at the usual hour. It was a small formation of just nine birds in ‘V’ formation but they flew much lower than usual, and at a much higher speed. The sound they produced from their wings was so deafening that humans were startled and looked up to the sky.
When the birds were one hundred meters or so above 'The Firs' they instantly changed colour from light grey to black. “How did they do that?” asked Peter to his dad. “They have just executed the famous ‘Half Revolution’ my son,” said Peters dad. “It’s a manoeuvre that other racing squadrons around the world have tried to emulate, but without success. Only the SBS has ever achieved it.” Then, within minutes, perfectly synchronised, all birds revolved again through 180 degrees and the arrow shape changed back to its normal light grey colour. The fliers had now returned to their normal upright positions. “Fantastic,” said Peter, “Dad, Nigel said that he would send a signal and he kept his word.”
The next day, a Wednesday, the Squadron flew past at the usual time but was reduced in number to seven birds and there was no fancy air display. Peter wondered if Nigel had become ill again.
Thursday brought an even smaller group of just 5 birds and on Friday there was no fly past at all. “That is unusual,” said Peter’s dad, “there has always been a fly past at 11 o’clock on a weekday except at times of war. We had better wait and see what happens on Monday Peter.”
Monday came and no SBS. “Dad I’m worried,” said Peter, “the number of birds in the flying formation has been slowly reducing and Nigel did speak of illness at their Mess.”
“I think that you are right my son,” said Peter’s Dad. “It’s essential that we investigate.” And so the two flew off to the Malvern Hills.
“Do you know where Malvern HQ is Dad?" Peter inquired. “Yes,” replied Peter’s dad. “Wing Commander Drake has a large house in West Malvern overlooking Herefordshire and the squadron's pigeon loft is in his garden. It’s a converted mobile home and can house about fifty birds, we shall see it from a mile away, you can’t miss it. I understand its pure luxury inside."
Soon the two were approaching West Malvern and Commander Drake’s house came into view. They landed at the main entrance to the loft and were met by Percy the Mynah bird. “Good morning Petty Officer Percy,” said Peter’s Dad, ”we are friends of Nigel Nutter and wondered if we could see him.” “I’m afraid he is ill,” said Percy, “just about all our airmen are unwell at the moment. We don’t know what has caused the epidemic and the human vet’s medicine has done no good.” Peter looked around the large garden and saw Commander Drake sitting in his summer house with his head in his hands. “Ducky has taken it very badly,” said Percy. “He served in the Royal Air Force you know. He fought in the 2nd World War in Bomber Command and has medals for bravery and honour, but this week ten of his birds died and I saw him cry like a baby. He sits alone in his summer house all day now. The man is distraught, he loves his birds and can see no end to this nightmare."
“You had better come in,” said Percy, “but I warn you, inside is not a pretty sight. We have twenty birds in a very bad way and the other twenty appear to be coming down with the disease. Nigel is one of the latter.”
When the birds were one hundred meters or so above 'The Firs' they instantly changed colour from light grey to black. “How did they do that?” asked Peter to his dad. “They have just executed the famous ‘Half Revolution’ my son,” said Peters dad. “It’s a manoeuvre that other racing squadrons around the world have tried to emulate, but without success. Only the SBS has ever achieved it.” Then, within minutes, perfectly synchronised, all birds revolved again through 180 degrees and the arrow shape changed back to its normal light grey colour. The fliers had now returned to their normal upright positions. “Fantastic,” said Peter, “Dad, Nigel said that he would send a signal and he kept his word.”
The next day, a Wednesday, the Squadron flew past at the usual time but was reduced in number to seven birds and there was no fancy air display. Peter wondered if Nigel had become ill again.
Thursday brought an even smaller group of just 5 birds and on Friday there was no fly past at all. “That is unusual,” said Peter’s dad, “there has always been a fly past at 11 o’clock on a weekday except at times of war. We had better wait and see what happens on Monday Peter.”
Monday came and no SBS. “Dad I’m worried,” said Peter, “the number of birds in the flying formation has been slowly reducing and Nigel did speak of illness at their Mess.”
“I think that you are right my son,” said Peter’s Dad. “It’s essential that we investigate.” And so the two flew off to the Malvern Hills.
 |
| The Malvern Hills |
“Do you know where Malvern HQ is Dad?" Peter inquired. “Yes,” replied Peter’s dad. “Wing Commander Drake has a large house in West Malvern overlooking Herefordshire and the squadron's pigeon loft is in his garden. It’s a converted mobile home and can house about fifty birds, we shall see it from a mile away, you can’t miss it. I understand its pure luxury inside."
 |
| Malvern HQ |
 |
| Inside the luxury Loft |
Soon the two were approaching West Malvern and Commander Drake’s house came into view. They landed at the main entrance to the loft and were met by Percy the Mynah bird. “Good morning Petty Officer Percy,” said Peter’s Dad, ”we are friends of Nigel Nutter and wondered if we could see him.” “I’m afraid he is ill,” said Percy, “just about all our airmen are unwell at the moment. We don’t know what has caused the epidemic and the human vet’s medicine has done no good.” Peter looked around the large garden and saw Commander Drake sitting in his summer house with his head in his hands. “Ducky has taken it very badly,” said Percy. “He served in the Royal Air Force you know. He fought in the 2nd World War in Bomber Command and has medals for bravery and honour, but this week ten of his birds died and I saw him cry like a baby. He sits alone in his summer house all day now. The man is distraught, he loves his birds and can see no end to this nightmare."
 |
| Wing Commander Drake's Summer House |
“You had better come in,” said Percy, “but I warn you, inside is not a pretty sight. We have twenty birds in a very bad way and the other twenty appear to be coming down with the disease. Nigel is one of the latter.”
To be continued......
Photographic Acknowledgements
The above images were provided, with thanks, from the following organisations:
Malvern Hills - en.wikipedia.org
Malvern HQ exterior - hcsdesighit.com
Malvern HQ interior - occupationalasthma.com
Commander Drake's Summer House - rgbstock.com
Malvern HQ exterior - hcsdesighit.com
Malvern HQ interior - occupationalasthma.com
Commander Drake's Summer House - rgbstock.com
Tuesday, 10 March 2015
3 Nigel Recovers
The following morning Nigel arose at 9 o’clock. “Did you sleep OK?” asked Tubby. ”Not too well old chap,” came the reply. ”The wind was so high and I could not get accustomed to that tree swinging from side to side all night. I felt I was going to fall out of bed.” “And you a flying ace,” replied Tubby. “Well my bed at Malvern HQ is just two foot off the ground and the loft doesn't move about.” “I didn't think about that Nigel,” replied Tubby, “we will put you in a lower nest tonight.”
Nigel spent the weekend at 'The Firs' relaxing and regaining his strength. Peter kept following him around and demanding that Nigel relate heroic tales of past military operations.
“Was your dad an airman?” inquired Peter. “Oh yes,” said Nigel. "He served in the Falklands War. My grandfather was Spanish so dad spoke Spanish Pigeon. Dad was selected to be a spy and released in Argentina. There he had to liaise with British Embassy birds and collect intelligence. Then, it was his job to fly out to the Royal Navy ships and pass on the information about the Argentine fleet.” “But how did he speak to the humans?” inquired Peter. “A very good question young man. I learnt human English at the Military Pigeon Academy at Sandhurst, but I can't speak it of course. The only bird that can speak English and Pigeon is the Mynah bird. The armed forces did experiment with parrots at one stage but to be frank they were not bright enough. Yes you need a Mynah bird that speaks Pigeon and English. All ships with a pigeon squadron would have a Mynah bird. We have one called Petty Officer Percy back at Malvern HQ. That’s how we can communicate with old Ducky Drake.”
“And what about your adventures Nigel, tell me about some of your assignments,” demanded Peter. “Well young man,” replied Nigel, “most of my work in recent years has been in the Middle East. Can’t say any more that that; Official Secrets Act you know; it’s all a bit hush hush.”
On Sunday Nigel decided to take a few practice flights to check that he would be OK for the journey back to Malvern the next day. Nigel was certainly feeling his old self again and could not resist putting on a display, flying upside down, looping the loop and impressing all the birds in the locality.
Monday morning came and Nigel's comrades were visible in the distance. ”Must go now,” said Nigel. “Thanks for the hospitality its been a wonderful change. Thank you Polly for the first class food I reckon I've put on fifty grams.”
“I’ll see you fly past tomorrow then Nigel,” said Peter. “How will I know if you are in the formation?”
“I’ll send a signal Peter,” he replied, “you will know its me.” And in an instant Nigel was off, ascending almost vertically, at very high speed, to meet the incoming birds. The formation was one bird short and Nigel merged seamlessly into the vacant position.
Nigel spent the weekend at 'The Firs' relaxing and regaining his strength. Peter kept following him around and demanding that Nigel relate heroic tales of past military operations.
 |
| The Firs |
“Was your dad an airman?” inquired Peter. “Oh yes,” said Nigel. "He served in the Falklands War. My grandfather was Spanish so dad spoke Spanish Pigeon. Dad was selected to be a spy and released in Argentina. There he had to liaise with British Embassy birds and collect intelligence. Then, it was his job to fly out to the Royal Navy ships and pass on the information about the Argentine fleet.” “But how did he speak to the humans?” inquired Peter. “A very good question young man. I learnt human English at the Military Pigeon Academy at Sandhurst, but I can't speak it of course. The only bird that can speak English and Pigeon is the Mynah bird. The armed forces did experiment with parrots at one stage but to be frank they were not bright enough. Yes you need a Mynah bird that speaks Pigeon and English. All ships with a pigeon squadron would have a Mynah bird. We have one called Petty Officer Percy back at Malvern HQ. That’s how we can communicate with old Ducky Drake.”
 |
| Petty Officer Percy |
“And what about your adventures Nigel, tell me about some of your assignments,” demanded Peter. “Well young man,” replied Nigel, “most of my work in recent years has been in the Middle East. Can’t say any more that that; Official Secrets Act you know; it’s all a bit hush hush.”
On Sunday Nigel decided to take a few practice flights to check that he would be OK for the journey back to Malvern the next day. Nigel was certainly feeling his old self again and could not resist putting on a display, flying upside down, looping the loop and impressing all the birds in the locality.
 |
| Nigel puts on a Display |
Monday morning came and Nigel's comrades were visible in the distance. ”Must go now,” said Nigel. “Thanks for the hospitality its been a wonderful change. Thank you Polly for the first class food I reckon I've put on fifty grams.”
“I’ll see you fly past tomorrow then Nigel,” said Peter. “How will I know if you are in the formation?”
“I’ll send a signal Peter,” he replied, “you will know its me.” And in an instant Nigel was off, ascending almost vertically, at very high speed, to meet the incoming birds. The formation was one bird short and Nigel merged seamlessly into the vacant position.
 |
| Nigel back with the SBS |
To be continued.......
Photographic Acknowledgements
The above images were provided, with thanks, from the following organisations:
Petty Officer Percy - sheffieldhistory.co.uk
Nigel putting on a display - firstchristianhopkinsville.org
The Formation - nature.com
Nigel putting on a display - firstchristianhopkinsville.org
The Formation - nature.com
Friday, 6 March 2015
2. The Rescue
"Are you ok sir?" Enquired Peter to the fallen bird. "Be fine in a while old chap," came the reply. "Took a bit of a nose dive back there. Not been feeling too well recently, got a bit of a dodgy stomach, half the boys at the mess are suffering at the moment. Anyway my name is Nutter, Flying Officer Nutter to be precise. Please call me 'Nigel', all my pals do." "Pleased to meet you Nigel," said Peter introducing himself. "This is my Dad," added Peter, "his friends call him 'Tubby'."
"Look Nigel," said Peter's Dad, "You are in no fit state to fly back to Malvern today. I suggest that you rest at our place for the weekend and then rejoin your pals on Monday morning when your boys do their normal fly past." "Are you sure?," asked Nigel, "as long as I'm not putting you or your good hen to any trouble. I must say it's a good job you boys came along, these Downs are full of dogs and even the odd fox, I could have been in a spot of bother."
"Do you think you can make it to Rosehill?" said Peter's Dad. "Oh I am sure I can," replied Nigel and the three birds flew off to Peter's home, a tall Californian Redwood tree called 'The Firs' on the edge of town.
At Peter's home Nigel was introduced to Peter's mum Polly who despite her previous reservations about the SBS welcomed the distinguished guest and told him to rest and recover from his ordeal.
"Nice place you've got here Tubby," said Nigel. "Thanks," replied Peter's Dad. "We call it
'The Firs', we have twenty five nests on nine stories. I bought it off an old crow a few years back for three trout, two dead hedgehogs and a sack of walnuts. Mind you it was in a sorry state, you would not believe the way those crows live, scruffy lot you know. I've done quite a bit of work on the property and I think my investment is starting to pay off. Last summer we held a party for family and friends and fifty five birds turned up. Pigeons came from all over England and Wales. "Even Uncle Roy, a racing pigeon from Plymouth, Devon turned up," chipped in Peter excitedly, "he is a distant relative of ours you know."
"OK", said Peter's Dad ,"help yourself to a nest Nigel and relax. Polly and I will try and rustle up some food."
Two hours later Nigel awoke from a nap and was invited to join the family for dinner. "What's this?" said Nigel, "a salad, I've not had a salad for years". "But you are a pigeon," said Polly. "All us pigeons are vegetarians. What do you eat at Commander Drake's then?" "Well most of the time he feeds us corn and high energy pellets," he replied. "I thought you had a sea gull for a chef," said Polly. "Oh you mean Brighton, no he's just our batman, he cleans the loft and generally tidies up after us. Do people really think that Brighton is a chef, that's a laugh, his idea of a gourmet meal is scavenging with his mates on the local rubbish dump. Chef indeed chuckled Nigel to himself, wait until I tell the boys back at base."
"Well tonight," announced Polly, "you will have the finest organic meal you'll find in Herefordshire. We have spinach, courgettes, red onions and artichokes all to detoxify and purify the body. And all food is locally sourced from Mr Farrow's allotment." "Doesn't Mr Farrow mind," enquired Nigel. "He doesn't have a say in the matter," said Polly,"we just helps ourselves. He gets furious but he can't catch us. He can't use his gun either because we are urban pigeons that live in a town. It is illegal to fire a gun in Rosehill. Guns are for the countryside. Sometimes we have lovely food from Mrs Trigg. She puts out treats like red apples, jacket potatoes and even fancy foreign nuts. We would never steal any vegetables from her garden". The four pigeons then sat down to their feast and spent hours and hours talking Pigeon language.
"Thank you very much Polly," said Nigel. "That was the finest meal I've ever tasted, I wish we had that sort of tucker at Malvern HQ, you guys certainly know how to put on a spread. Well its been a tough day, and if you good folks will forgive me I must rest now. See you all in the morning."
 |
| Flying Officer 'Nigel' Nutter |
"Look Nigel," said Peter's Dad, "You are in no fit state to fly back to Malvern today. I suggest that you rest at our place for the weekend and then rejoin your pals on Monday morning when your boys do their normal fly past." "Are you sure?," asked Nigel, "as long as I'm not putting you or your good hen to any trouble. I must say it's a good job you boys came along, these Downs are full of dogs and even the odd fox, I could have been in a spot of bother."
"Do you think you can make it to Rosehill?" said Peter's Dad. "Oh I am sure I can," replied Nigel and the three birds flew off to Peter's home, a tall Californian Redwood tree called 'The Firs' on the edge of town.
 |
| The Firs |
At Peter's home Nigel was introduced to Peter's mum Polly who despite her previous reservations about the SBS welcomed the distinguished guest and told him to rest and recover from his ordeal.
"Nice place you've got here Tubby," said Nigel. "Thanks," replied Peter's Dad. "We call it
'The Firs', we have twenty five nests on nine stories. I bought it off an old crow a few years back for three trout, two dead hedgehogs and a sack of walnuts. Mind you it was in a sorry state, you would not believe the way those crows live, scruffy lot you know. I've done quite a bit of work on the property and I think my investment is starting to pay off. Last summer we held a party for family and friends and fifty five birds turned up. Pigeons came from all over England and Wales. "Even Uncle Roy, a racing pigeon from Plymouth, Devon turned up," chipped in Peter excitedly, "he is a distant relative of ours you know."
 |
| Uncle Roy at his loft in Plymouth |
"OK", said Peter's Dad ,"help yourself to a nest Nigel and relax. Polly and I will try and rustle up some food."
Two hours later Nigel awoke from a nap and was invited to join the family for dinner. "What's this?" said Nigel, "a salad, I've not had a salad for years". "But you are a pigeon," said Polly. "All us pigeons are vegetarians. What do you eat at Commander Drake's then?" "Well most of the time he feeds us corn and high energy pellets," he replied. "I thought you had a sea gull for a chef," said Polly. "Oh you mean Brighton, no he's just our batman, he cleans the loft and generally tidies up after us. Do people really think that Brighton is a chef, that's a laugh, his idea of a gourmet meal is scavenging with his mates on the local rubbish dump. Chef indeed chuckled Nigel to himself, wait until I tell the boys back at base."
 |
| Brighton |
"Well tonight," announced Polly, "you will have the finest organic meal you'll find in Herefordshire. We have spinach, courgettes, red onions and artichokes all to detoxify and purify the body. And all food is locally sourced from Mr Farrow's allotment." "Doesn't Mr Farrow mind," enquired Nigel. "He doesn't have a say in the matter," said Polly,"we just helps ourselves. He gets furious but he can't catch us. He can't use his gun either because we are urban pigeons that live in a town. It is illegal to fire a gun in Rosehill. Guns are for the countryside. Sometimes we have lovely food from Mrs Trigg. She puts out treats like red apples, jacket potatoes and even fancy foreign nuts. We would never steal any vegetables from her garden". The four pigeons then sat down to their feast and spent hours and hours talking Pigeon language.
"Thank you very much Polly," said Nigel. "That was the finest meal I've ever tasted, I wish we had that sort of tucker at Malvern HQ, you guys certainly know how to put on a spread. Well its been a tough day, and if you good folks will forgive me I must rest now. See you all in the morning."
To be continued.........
Photographic Acknowledgements
The above images were provided, with thanks, from the following organisations:
Flying Officer Nigel Nutter - ebay.co.uk
Uncle Roy from Plymouth - pigeonads.co.uk
Brighton the Sea Gull - imascientist.org.uk
Uncle Roy from Plymouth - pigeonads.co.uk
Brighton the Sea Gull - imascientist.org.uk
Thursday, 26 February 2015
1. Peter Admires the Racing Pigeons
|
| Rosehill Downs |
Peter the pigeon was sitting on his nest at the top of a tall fir tree when he spotted a flock of birds approaching at high speed. "Dad," he said, "look at these birds, look how fast they fly, and look at that arrow shaped formation, how can they fly like that?"
"Well my son," replied his dad Tubby, "they are the famous Special Bird Squadron (SBS) out of West Malvern, Worcestershire. Every weekday at about 11 o'clock in the morning they fly across the Rosehill Downs, circle once, and return to their Malvern Head-Quarters (HQ)."
"They are pigeons like us my son but they are military racing pigeons, they are an elite corps, the aristocrats of the pigeon world. They have been well educated and bred to assist this country in time of war. Their descendants have served in foreign fields for many generations, in many conflicts, and most have been decorated with medals. You should be proud to be a wood pigeon my son; we are closely related to those boys."
"Yes but they are all toffee-nosed big heads," says Peter's mum Polly. "They live a life of luxury at Malvern HQ as they call it, under the care of a human called Wing Commander 'Ducky' Drake. They don't have to scratch around for food in the fields like us. All is provided for them by the Commander who employs a sea gull as their chef. Word has it that they live in a top of the range pigeon loft with carpets and they even have central heating."
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| Peter |
|
| Peter's Dad, Tubby |
|
| Peter's Mum, Polly |
"I wish I could fly that fast," said Peter, "I would fly with my mates in formation; but it can't be done when you are our size." "Why are we so fat dad?" enquired Peter, "when those pigeons are so slim and athletic." "As I explained to you my son they are a different breed. It doesn't matter what they eats; they don't get fat." "Some of them is positively anorexic if you ask me", said Peter's mum. "Being that slim cannot be healthy," she added.
From that day on, at about 11 o'clock, Peter watched out for the SBS. He studied their ariel manoeuvres and marvelled at how they were able to swap positions at high speed in order to share the workload at the front of the formation. He noticed that generally there were twenty-one birds flying in an arrow head shape. Some days the number of birds was reduced to fifteen and even twelve but the same arrow head formation was retained.
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| Special Bird Squadron (SBS) |
Then, one Friday morning, Peter noticed the Squadron was considerably reduced. There were nine birds holding a 'V' formation, five on the right and four on the left. Also, some 200 meters back was a lone bird; apparently struggling to keep up with the group. Then, suddenly, the trailing bird started to descend at a very acute angle and crashed on the Rosehill Downs.
"Dad we must help," implored Peter. "OK my son lets go," said Peter's dad. And the two flew off on their rescue mission.
To be continued...
Photographic Acknowledgements
The above images were provided, with thanks, by the following organisations:
Peter the Pigeon - www.hdnewwallpapers.com
Rosehill Downs - www.treeshart.com
Peter's Dad, Tubby - www.theclotheslineie.wordpress.com
Peter's Mum, Polly - www.pigeoncontrolinkent.co.uk
Peter's Dad, Tubby - www.theclotheslineie.wordpress.com
Peter's Mum, Polly - www.pigeoncontrolinkent.co.uk
Special Bird Squadron - www.nature.com
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