Wing and a prayer

THE article about pigeons in World War II brought back memories of when I lived next door to my grand-

dad, a successful pigeon racer. I would waiting for hours with him for his birds to come home. If a pigeon arrived with a message on its leg, Granddad rang the nearest RAF airfield to collect it.

Not long after the war, Grandad had sent his best racing pigeon to France for a long-distance race.

He was upset when it hadn’t come home by the end of the day. Several days passed and suddenly there was the pigeon on the roof.

Granddad managed to coax it down and found to his horror its chest was full of pellets. He rushed it to a vet who saved its life.

How wonderful that despite being shot, it had managed to fly home.

Mrs J. DUNK, Scunthorpe, Lincs.