My Dad loved birds all his life, he spent his free time up the hills where we stayed and caught birds like Bullfinches and Goldfinches and kept them in cages and bred them. Later when we left the tenement and moved down the road to a new semi-detached house with a big garden he built himself a Pigeon loft and started breeding and racing pigeons.
DAD
My Dad he was a Doo man,
ever since he was a boy,
I don't know what is was about them,
that filled his heart with joy.
Later when he was older,
he raced them near and far,
I don't know if he ever had a winner,
whether they were ever up to par.
He could talk all day about their colour,
their lineage and their eyes,
breeding them and feeding them,
with corn, and maize and rye.
But on Race day he'd sit in the garden,
eyes focused on the sky,
waiting for his Doo's to return
before some other guys.
When they finally appeared in view,
he'd rattle some corn and rye.
to get them quickly into the loft,
and down from out the sky.
He'd get the bird, remove its ring
and put it in his clock,
to record the time the bird came home
the first of all his flock.
Then down he went to the Doo Club,
to get the results of the race,
knowing his pigeon hadn't won,
but hoping for at least a place
I can't remember if my Dad,
ever did have a winner,
but this.. I can be really sure of,
we never had pigeon for dinner.