The first lesson that one should learn in this game is how to be a good loser. The friendship that forms from the common passion of racing pigeons needs to be stronger than a need to win. Of course we all want to win, be consistently flying in the top percentage but if we can’t hold our heads high and be happy for our fellow competitors when they have their shining moments then you can’t say you truly love pigeons as much as winning.
There’s a saying we have, “One day you’re the champ, the next day you’re the chump.” Whenever we win we feel so good and act like a six year old kid with a candy bar. We rush home and look at our winner, so proud of all the hard work that brought our loft that victory. And then— the following week you’re 15 minutes behind the leader and all the wind is knocked out of your sail. Well, racing pigeons is about the beauty of this little bird. When I sit in the yard, even if I know I’m late because one of my buddies called me and told me that they got one, I’m that little kid with the candy bar when my first bird comes home from a race. My heart races and I look over to my wife and often say, “how much time did we lose?!” She smiles and laughs. An hour later she asks, “are they all home yet?” I reply, “yep!” She says, “oh good!” And up to the club house I go to calculate the speeds for the day’s champion.
