It’s been a hard couple of weeks. Rhett, the male bird from our bonded pair, died and left Debra to look after two very demanding babies on her own. I’m trying my best to help her, but I don’t possess the skills needed to feed them. I have been handling them daily to give her a break from the constant crying for food. They’re growing so fast and need a lot of energy.
Three days ago, I noticed the last male from the original trio who joined us last year had stopped coming for food. I fear the worst. We had a feral pigeon killed by a sparrowhawk in the garden a couple of weeks ago, and I think the last male may have met a similar fate. It’s a double shame. He was a lovely bird and I was planning to catch him and put him in with Debra since she’s lost her mate. I can tell she’s lonely now she’s the only one left from the group.
I’ve found a breeder in Glasgow who has a male racing pigeon for sale. Once lockdown is over, I’ll travel over to collect him. If you’d told me a year ago that I’d love and care for stray racing pigeons, I’d have said you were crazy. Now I can’t imagine life without them.