Geordie Racer

I can't be doing with a huge post at the moment so I think I will add some bite sized portions of what's been going on in my life recently, when I feel like it. Here's the first and strangely the tale I wish to tell the most.

Geordie Racer is the racing pigeon who has been living in our garden for the last two weeks, he is very fine. He has a lovely coat and well defined red feet, he looks like the one above.

We first noticed him in the garden because he looked fancier than all the other pigeons and he had a ring on his foot. Tom managed to read the code on the ring and through the magic of the internet he traced him back to the North East Pigeon racing society, hence Geordie Racer which was a childhood favourite of both Tom and I, along with Badger Girl. These were schools' English programmes where you could learn our fine language whilst enjoying exciting child-oriented dramas. They also feartured Wordy; a floating computer generated learning assistant with no legs, of the 'Magic, Magic E' fame. Only as an adult did I discover that yes my weird floaty friend E is indeed magic.

Anyway, I digress somewhat. Geordie Racer likes our garden because our house is being re-thatched and he seems to only eat corn, which the local thatcher Chris found out when he tried to give him some biscuits. Chris is a nice chap and seems very fond of Geordie Racer too. Jon has been staying this week and he was introduced to Geordie, he wanted to shoot him with an air rifle. Not too keen on Jon sometimes.

I have been on an emotional rollercoaster where Geordie is concerned, on a rainy Monday morning feeling very miserable at going to work I came across a dead pigeon in the road on the way to the bus. I looked closer and found to my shock and horror that the pigeon had a ring and was in fact our Geordie Racer. Of course being the over-emotional wreck that I am I was in tears all the way to work and when I got to work I had been crying so much I had brought on a migraine and had to go home. I was guilt ridden for not trying to catch him sooner and worried that Tom might have seen him as Tom was the most attached to Geordie. I steeled myself and decided to clean up the evidence before Tom got home.

I returned home to get the spade and bin bags and lo and behold a racing pigeon was sitting in the garden, this fellow had a blue ring and the poor chap in the road had a yellow one. This was bloody Geordie Racer, alive, healthy and cooing at me in mockery. I felt very silly and then guilty at being relieved as another pigeon had met his maker and I didn't care as much as if it was our pigeon.

He's still here anyway and we don't know whether ethically it is better to catch him so he can be returned to his owners or whether he should live as he wishes, free in Devon but perhaps unable to survive on his own. We'll give him another week or so and then decide.