This bird is the (last) word!

I was mind-boggled to read about a recently retired racing pigeon.

A champion pigeon has been sold for a record €1.25m ($1.42m; £1.07m).

Auction house Pipa called Armando the “best Belgian long-distance pigeon of all time”. He’s also been dubbed the “Lewis Hamilton of pigeons”.

Before this sale, the record was €376,000 (£321,800). However, Pipa says this was beaten within a day of Armando being put up for bids.

The champ, who turns five this year, is now enjoying his retirement and has already fathered a number of chicks.

There’s more at the link.

$1.42 million for something that I’m used to thinking of as the source of splatters on my car’s paintwork and windshield?  Verily, the mind doth boggle . . .

I hope they keep him safely in Belgium, or somewhere similar.  When dove season opens up in the South, parts of this state sound rather like they’re filled with entire batteries of anti-aircraft artillery, going off for hours every day.  I suspect Pipa might become the filling in the world’s most expensive pigeon pie!

Oh, well.  In Pipa’s honor, what else can I do but play this?



  1. Growing up in a small midwestern town I remember the annual pigeon control event.
    Members of the local sportsmen's club lined the three block main street of town at the ready while kids made loud noises to scare the pigeons to take flight.
    Rules were simple, only shoot those birds on the wing, and only those with clear sky behind them.
    I still recall both birds and lead shot falling from the skies.
    Back in the fifties of course, could never happen in these modern days.

  2. *SNORT* Great call.

    I once saw a NZ commercial for Bluebird crisps, with the lyrics slightly changed to "Bluebird's" the word", superimposed on about 30-45 seconds of penguin video, beginning and ending with their crisps bag. Hysterical, this level of fun.

    I will neither confirm nor deny the local control of chipmunks and other overly cute rodents by application of pellet gun, with a backstop rise of ground. small boys as spotters, adults as persuasion. Those were the days when you could persuade them to move on.

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