Fly the Coup

When I was a teenager, my parents bought me a homing pigeon coup. My grandfather was very much into pigeon racing and had learned it from his father in Belgium. The actual coup was a little 10' X 10' wooden building that was up on blocks. For a couple of years, I raised homing pigeons and even raced them. It wasn't a race in the classical sense that we saddled them up and had mice rde them around a track. We joined the local homing pigeon club and on Saturdays during the summer, you would take the birds you were going to race to the club. I was amazed at the number of pigeon fanciers there were.

At the club, they would place numbered rubber bands on their feet and place them in a large cage. You could wager on your birds also but I never did being only 13. They would load all of the pigeon into a truck and take them to the designated release point. It was always west and went as far as the middle of Illinois. On Sunday afternoons, you would sit by the coup and wait for the birds to come home. You had to have a clock that you would put the band in and it punched the time. All clocks were calibrated on the day before.

One time, I came in 3rd place. Not bad for a teenager. Now, I do not remember what happened to the pigeon coup. I know that I enjoyed the birds but for some reason I do not remember the coup leaving. One of those large gaps in my memory I guess. So many memories and so little space left.

Icool

Cobb