"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
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