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63 – Purebred PIGEON
Windstorm, Part 2
By Corrine, Fly By Night Lofts
Continuing from her article on page 64 of our January/
February 2020 issue, Corrine describes the aftermath of a freak
windstorm that destroyed her lofts and many of her birds.
After about a week from coming back from the NWOETC meet at
the Salt Lake City show, my “high” wore off. I had felt so good after the
show I thought my depression over the plight of my birds (and even the
trees lost in the windstorm) was over. I woke up the next weekend feel-
ing tired and overwhelmed. I felt like I could not even function at the
most simple of tasks like going to work and taking care of the animals.
Usually I am juggling many things at once, but I could not even get up
the mettle to do one thing at a time. I was dragging big time.
Insurance was contacted and they were very sympathetic and
helpful. Now there was a quote for the damage, which was good, but
there was still a lot to do. The fencing, removal of my beautiful but
dead trees, and the destruction of the loft were quoted, and a deposit
was put into my checking. The trees were the easy part. After a few
bids we were able to get the trees cut up and removed. I felt like cry-
ing over the waste of the 50- year-old beauties that sheltered my yard
and provided homes for dozens of birds. The large bits of the trees
were to be used for wood for needy families, so that made me feel a
little bit better than just having them ground up.
I was also able to see the wreckage of the lofts much better. My
main loft was a snarl of broken wood and torn wire. My beautiful loft,
hand built by my friend Eldon; it had harbored generations of my
precious West of England Tumblers. It was gone.
Okay, so we had the money for the new loft(s), but it was still
going to require building them. The days were growing shorter, and
now it was late October. My birds were still in crates in the shop,
and I dutifully watered and fed them everyday and pulled the dirty
straw out and replaced it once a week. Although they seemed content
enough, I hated having them so crowded. Pigeons are the most
amiable of animals. They just take their condition and make do. A few
couples made little nests in the straw and had decided to raise babies,
but I kept taking the eggs away.
I don’t know for sure how many birds were lost in the after-
math of the windstorm. I rarely count my Wests but I am sure my
numbers were above 50. I lost 2 of my Brunner Pouters, leaving me
two (all were cockbirds). All 4 of my old rollers survived. My trio of
young Bantam Old English Game had vanished without a trace and I
was sad. One black West refused to be caught and disappeared after
3 days. I found his feathers down the road, murdered by a Cooper’s
Hawk. I lost several squabs because by the time I had gotten into the
loft they were cold already, but I did not know how many birds were
gone, other than the ones I found crushed in the debris.
The saddest loss for me besides the two Brunner boys came after
a couple weeks. I had found both of my original West of England
Tumblers, both over 13 years old, my red check Jam, and my first
black and foundation of my black family, Toast. Toast started looking
lethargic in the shop. He was sitting slightly ruffled up. I made sure he
was with his mate (he had even settled eggs and raised babies during
the season, pretty good for an old guy). He still didn’t look perky, so I
took him out of the crate and let him fly around the shop. He contin-
ued to decline, and most disturbingly, seemed to be turning yellow. I
first noticed it in his eyes, which were always beautifully clear pearl.
They seemed yellow now. Then I saw it in the inside of his mouth. I fig-
ured the poor guy had some liver problem, and after a few days I could
no longer watch him suffer. He was a good bird.
It gave me a headache to think of how to estimate the amount of
wood and wire I would need to buy to replace the loft. I am not good at
that kind of thing. My son-in-law was busy with work and by the time
he could make it out here it would be dark (he’s a framer, so a valuable
person to know during such a time). Then I saw the 8X12 sheds for sale
at Habitat for Humanity. They were reasonably priced at $800. All they
needed to do was move to my house. I went down and looked at them.
They were very nice, so I bought both of them. Now how to move them.
Here is a bit of advice from me to you, should you ever decide
to save money and “just move the sheds” yourself.
Don’t!! Have a
professional do it.
You will save time, money, and virtual hairpulling.
I ran some quotes and it seemed an easy thing – rent a forklift, put the
sheds on the trailer, and go home. The sheds were about 7 miles from
the house. It would cost around $600 to have both moved – or I could
rent a forklift and giant trailer for around $200. Piece of cake.
It was NOT a piece of cake. The details are too horrible to even go
into here. Suffice to say it took two hours for the workers at HFH for
put the first shed ON our trailer. We ran over BADLY on the time and
ended up spending extra for the rental. I was ready to cry by the end of
it. So stressful. I went on Craigslist and had the other shed moved by
a pro. It took him about an hour to get the shed and bring it and level
both of them (he kindly took pity on my plight and even gave me a
discount).
So now we had lofts – and for a fly pen? I bought a dog kennel
with a narrow door. Even that took a bit of wickering to find. After a
day of hard work, I was able to release my pigeons into the loft/pen.
Even though it took us awhile to get perches and nest shelves in, they
were already happy to be out of the shop and be able to fly around. The
first thing all of them did in the waning November sunlight was take a
bath in the water pan. I bet it felt good to get all the dirt and smell off.
It made me feel so content to see them flying around, cooing, flirting,
bathing. I hated having them in dog crates. It made me feel like a bad
human, although they didn’t seem to mind it as much as me.
The fences around the property were eventually replaced. One loft
now is complete, and I have several babies hatched and banded. The
other loft is still unfinished, but it is spring now and we can work on it
over the summer. I like the dog kennel fly pen. Although not predator
proof, I can lock the birds up at night in the loft and it is very secure.
I still miss my beautiful trees as they offered privacy, but now I
can look forward to carrying on with my 12-year West breeding pro-
gram. Best of all, the birds are content again. When I think back at that
fateful, destructive day, I am surprised at how numb I felt, yet I had the
determination to get my birds safe.
All things pass; and change is inevitable. Some changes are slow
and others, like this one, swift and life-changing. I had support from
my family, and my bird family, my West of England people. •