LETTERS TO THE EDITOR.
PIGEON-RACING.—IL
[TO THE EDITOR OF TIDE " SPECTATOR...) •
Six,—Fifty years ago, when a pigeon accomplished the journey from Paris or from London to any part of Belgium, the bird was subject to a public ovation ; he was carried in triumph, his owner was serenaded, his renown covered the country, and he became an object of all but national worship. Now-a-days a pigeon let loose at five o'clock in the morning on the Spanish frontier, and at the ex- treme south-west angle of France, who returns to Liege, in the east of Belgium, close to the German frontier, by, say, six o'clock the very same evening, may no doubt bear the national honours for that year, unless indeed some other bird has anticipated him ; but he is only the first bird of his year, the winner of the national Bel- gian, let us call it, Pigeon Derby, who may or may not have extra- ordinary qualities, but who, had he arrived the next morning instead of the same evening, would have created national disappoint- ment. This extraordinary development of pigeon-power during the last fifty years—or in round numbers, three hundred gene- rations of pigeons—has been largely due to the gigantic appli- cation of the principle of selection on a national scale to millions of birds. One couple of pigeons, I may remind my readers, will produce nine pairs of young a year,—they ought to be confined to producing three. But pigeon-fanciers do not always keep the breeding within stern bounds, and probably 300 generations is nearer the mark than 150. It is evident also that the more recent railway facilities for the transportation of the birds must have added much to their returning powers. Thus fifty years ago the poor creatures, huddled in closely confined panniers, almost like sardines in a box, had to be conveyed on the top of thundering diligences, scared out of their-wits, and jolted to death over hundreds of miles, through dreary nights and days of frightful moral and physical torture, before they reached even the starting-point of the race. Now all is done that railway and municipal authorities can do to increase the comfort of the competitors during trans- portation. The mode of transport is still capable, no doubt, of in- definite improvement, but so far as the birds are concerned, it has im- proved indefinitely. The panniers are larger, the conditions of trans- port not only more carefully studied on the part of the owners, but most respectfully attended to both by the railway authorities, and by the railway porters, many of whom are pigeon-owners, so that no prospective winner of the Derby in our own country is probably treated with more deference and care than is the hamper contain- ing the Belgian workman's prize pigeon by the Belgian and French railway authorities. It may be conceded that the effect of an improvement in carrying the birds is limited to the tendency (1) of engaging a larger number of competitors, (2) of diminishing the number of disabled combatants. But all told, does it not follow that if fifty years, say, of Darwinian experi- ment, conducted however loosely, have resulted in a fact so 'astonishing that, as a matter almost of course, a large num- ber of the Belgian pigeons let loose at Dax, suppose, in the Pyrenees, on a summer's day, will return to different parts of Belgium the same evening, the remainder the second and third days, and the others be treated as waifs and strays, it is hardly possible to foresee what might not be done, if all the European nations were to take up the experiment scientifically? It seems to be a fact, that from 200 to 300 generations of
pigeons, occupying half a century, have resulted hi apparently doubling the average powers of the average bird. The ex- periments have been conducted tentatively with imperfect know- ledge and relative carelessness. If with ever-growing know- ledge and growing facilities of transport, an exhaustive system of experimental breeding and trial were carried on in this country, by large classes of people for their amusement, the expense being a flea-bite in comparison with the other recognised amusements of the population, who can say whether we might not arrive at a race of pigeons whose exploits would be almost beyond calcula- tion ?
It has been asked whether a pigeon might not cross the Atlantic? For my part., I do not think that a pigeon ever could cross so vast a piece of water, especially salt water, as the Atlantic, except by the lucky fluke of being able to rest on a series of vessels and vic- tualling there when exhausted. Perhaps if a bird were taken as many hundred miles from the European shore as he could reach in a day's flight, and then were allowed to return and on a subsequent occasion he were taken further, it being so arranged that there should be a vessel in sight for him to alight upon, and he did so, it is just conceivable that a bird of extraordinary, we will say, almost human intelligence and pertinacity, might, having been tempted further and further away across the Atlantic, and re- gained his home eventually in each case, ultimately, perhaps, accomplish the journey in several days, stopping here and there on different vessels, and pursuing his journey by instinct coupled with pertinacity until he reached home. But I only notice this line of argument, in order to say that I look upon it as belonging to the wildest of improbabilities. Nevertheless, I do entertain a very strong idea of the almost indefinite perfectibility of the pigeon as a returning bird, provided always that lie have natural landmarks to go by. Thus I should not consider it in the least impossible that, if general attention were turned to the training of pigeons, and if the world at large were to throw its resources into the matter, a hundred years would develope a bird that might come back from Japan, through China, India, and Europe, to England, as certainly (taking of course the corre- sponding averages) as a bird now conies back from Spain to Bel- gium, whose ancestors were carried in civic triumph if they got from London to Brussels. I have a perfect conviction that the Darwinian principle applied closely and scientifically to pigeons upon a national scale would inevitably produce such a bird sooner or later. But believing as I do, and holding it to be demonstrable, that the pigeon moves more by sight and induction derived from sight than anything else, that is to say, neither by smell nor any fantastic electrical or other transcendental sense, (is not the eye itself, as a photographic apparatus, the most miraculous element in nature,) I do not believe that an average pigeon, however produced, could be expected, by sight, on an average, to cross the Atlantic. Under favourable circumstances, a pigeon may perhaps fly a hundred miles an hour. It is con- ceivable that, applying those principles of transmutation which have differentiated the race-horse from the cart-horse, our '1950' pigeon might reach to one hundred and fifty, or say even two hundred miles an hour. Of a summer's day, starting at cock- crow on one side, and flying, suppose, for ten hours without stopping, lie might accomplish perhaps 2,000 miles, as he now in a day will from 600 to 1,000 ; but the number of chances to which he would be subject in the way of adverse currents, un- quenchable thirst, &c., are too many to enumerate, and there would always be the cardinal difficulty of the absence of any direction from the eyesight in mid-ocean, for a pigeon is supposed to see only fifty or sixty miles ahead.
There have been many attempts to explain the natural instinct of the pigeon. Some have said that his instinct is only that of the migra- tory birds, whose tendency is towards some particular latitude. This will not bear the test of actual fact. It may be true that the wild pigeon, in autumn, leaves temperate countries for warmer climes, which lie leaves in spring to return northward in summer, but as it has been well observed, this instinct has wholly departed from the domesticated pigeon, who never dreams in the sharpest winter of leaving his pigeon-house to go South. lie has none of that
extraordinary fever and agitation that may be remarked in the
captive nightingale, even after years of captivity, who, when the migratory season comes, is said to be in convulsions of anxiety.
Besides, as a matter of fact, a pigeon will come back indifferently from north, east, south, or west to his cot. Pigeons have returned to Belgium from Milan, from Rome, from Dresden in Saxony, from Liverpool, Birmingham, and Dull. But why, it may be asked, do the Belgian pigeon-fanciers prefer sending their pigeons to the south- west of France, for the great pigeon-races ? This bangs upon reasons
wholly apart from any natural instinct of the bird. One is probably that, speaking the same language, the custodians of the birds can get on better in France than in other directions. The late war has opened the eyes of the Germans generally to the value of pigeons in time of war, and probably, it will be easier in future for pigeon-racing to take place in the direction of Germany. But other causes are at work ;—one is the peculiar nature and confir- mation of what might be called the vast champagne-basin of France, between the south-west angle and the north-east, where Belgium lies ; another is the direction of the summer winds during the months when all the great pigeon-races take place. During those months, the ordinary winds sweeping across France and Belgium blow from the west, either south-west, or north- west. These winds are peculiarly favourable to the flight of the birds, not only because they help them on their way, but because they carry an immense amount of moisture and a certain amount of cloud. This has the double effect of tempering the glare of the sun to the poor bird, and assuaging his thirst, the pigeon being an exceedingly thirsty bird. Thus it is, I be- lieve, a fact that migratory birds leaving our shores choose a south wind to depart, notwithstanding these winds run counter to their flight, and it has been suggested that this tendency is due to the moist nature of the wind. In the case of a migratory bird, it might very well be thought, and perhaps maintained, that just as we ourselves mechanically turn towards the quarter from which a warm breath proceeds, and go counter to it if we want more warmth, so a bird feeling a south wind would naturally be at- tracted in that direction. On the other hand, it is said that when the north winds blow, the migratory birds hide wherever they can. Be all this as it may—for I speak with imperfect know- ledge of the natural history of the matter as regards migratory birds—as a matter of fact, the annual national pigeon contests of Belgium have all gradually taken the direction of the south-west of France. The exceptions to the rule always supply curious results. Thus occasionally pigeons are sent to compete from Perpignan, or Marseilles, or Toulon, and it is a well-established fact with the Belgian pigeon-fanciers that although the distance in miles from Perpignan in the south-east corner of France is diagon- ally very much less than the distance from Bayonne and the south-west of France on the Atlantic, yet the results from the shorter distance are very much less satisfactory than from the longer distance. In the one case, i.e., from the south-west corner 'of France, the bird has, it is true, to traverse a longer distance, but with fewer intervening objects to disturb his judgment when harassed between fear and fatigue. Moreover, he has a more civilised country to pass over, so far as he is concerned, —that is comparatively free from kites, falcons, and other winged highway- men, whose numbers and ferocity are generally in proportion to the wildness of the district to be traversed. A wary and experienced pigeon who has once escaped from aggressive claws is apt to give a very wide berth to mountains of a certain height, even although he could pass like a little speck above them, for knowing what little specks he himself can discern many a score miles away, he entertains no fond illusions with regard to his own invisibility ; and as his heart thumps to get home, it thumps still harder to think that some dreadful rocket of a falcon may, at any moment, shoot almost perpendicularly into the air, and probably damn his hopes of home for ever. Two remarkable trials were made the same day from Belgium,—one from San Sebastian, in Spain, by the society known as the Concordia of Liege, and the other by the Society known as the Society of the Holy Ghost of Verviers. On the 7th of August, 1852, the respective batches of pigeons were flown at the same hour, one batch at San Sebastian, the other at Per- pignan, from the opposite corners therefore of the south of France. The same day one pigeon reached home from San Sebastian, and his arrival was duly certified to the Society of the Concordia. The next day, that is, the 8th of August, fifteen of the San Sebastian competitors carried off all the remaining prizes. But the Perpig- nan batch fared very differently. Although this town was nearer to Belgium, speaking roughly, by sixty miles, the first bird reached home only on the second day at eight o'clock in the morn- ing; and it was not before the 14th—i.e., seven days later—that fifteen or sixteen other pigeons from Perpignan returned. It was admitted on all hands that the two sets of birds were equal in quality, although thirty per cent. more in point of numbers were sent to San Sebastian. In spite, however, of the difference in the numbers, it is clear the advantage remained with the pigeons that bad the longer distance to fly, and the most natural solution was the nature of the country traversed respectively. One set of pigeons had before them the immense plain stretching be- tween the Spanish frontier and Belgium, the other a journey bristling with a vast variety of mountain chains. One other argument is very much in favour of the early return of the birds flying from the south-west of France. Rising, as all good birds do, im- mediately to an enormous height, at which they appear to the human eye as small specks, the Atlantic must appear to them as a wall and a desert not to be attempted, and the combinations to which their judgment is compelled to resort are thus of necessity very ranch reduced in number. Fear being, moreover, father to the thought, they will be little tempted to pass over the moun- tains into Spain ; and their fears, wishes, instincts, and eye- sight, combining with memory, will greatly add to the rapidity of their determination in the right direction. But for training purposes on the part of pigeon-fanciers indifferent to the number of pigeons they might sacrifice, so as they attained in course of time to the greatest possible amount of high courage, pertinacity, and judgment, there is no doubt that the shorter and more difficult journey from Perpignan is the best.
Pains have been taken to ascertain the rate of a pigeon's flight. The English dragon is a swifter bird than the Belgian. But he flies low, and is of small, if any intellect. I do not know whether the question is or can be settled. For long distances the Belgian fanciers had in the year 1865, by induction of many in- stances, concluded that a pigeon can fly, on an average, 1,164 metres a minute, or 1;273 yards ; but if such is the average taken for distances extending diagonally over France. it must be evident that what a pigeon can do over two or three hundred miles only must be con- siderably greater. Then, again, it is almost inconceivable that a pigeon starting from San Sebastian for Liege, suppose, should be able to adhere to the true mathematical line of shortest distance. 'Whether in obedience to the currents of winds or in obedience to the landmarks he selects, he must follow, not a straight, but a broken line of some sort. Now the computations made by the Belgian Societies are, so far as we know, invariably on the prin- ciple of taking the crow's flight from corner to corner, and then dividing the number of miles by the number of hours between the time of departure and the time of arrival.
The exact distance between Dax and Liege is, I am told, 580 miles as the crow flies, i.e., in the mathematical line on a true map. But a pigeon can scarcely follow the true mathematical line, and to accomplish 600 he may be supposed to fly 700, 800, or 1,000 miles in broken lines, all tending more or less home- wards. The pigeon who took the first prize of all Belgium in 1871 belonged to a small basket-maker at Huy, near Liege. I remember holding the bird in my hand—a small, compact, black bird, as hard as a stone to the touch—I forget whether in his third or fourth year. The bird was flown in 1871 at Dax in the Pyrenees at 5 o'clock in the morning, and arrived at Huy the same evening at 6 o'clock. Taking the distance as 600 miles crow-flight, and dividing by the number of hours, 13, this gives us the rate of 46 miles an hour for 13 hours.
I have seen a pigeon, how bred I do not know, but he seemed to me nearer three times, than twice, the size of a large wood- pigeon. That we could by breeding produce flying-pigeons of that size, retaining or improving upon the intelligenae, and doubling or trebling the speed of the existing Belgian breeds, I entertain
no doubt whatever.—I am, Sir, &c., PIGEON.
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