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Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 56, 28 May 1927, Page 14

Clocking 'em in.—There is no doubt that the homing pigeon has his aggravating obsessions (says a Sydnev ‘•Bulletin” paragraphist). I am reminded of a recent agonising experience of Bronson's. He entered some young birds for a 50-mile flight. When the hour for their arrival was due, Bronson, with his sealed clock all ready for the insertion of the racing ring from the first pigeon’s leg, hovered anxiously about his loft. Presently a couple of the birds came volplaning down, and Bronson, with visions of first prize, danced in the yard like David before the Ark, rattling the while a huge tin of peas. Pigeons invariably go for a drink after a flight, and (alas!) it had been raining. The two unflurried fowls lit on an adjacent roof, and there had a long one together from the gutter Dislodged by a stone hurled by their maddened owner, the pair flew round for another minute before entering the trap. They had wasted three precious minutes on the roof, and when times were checked at the club later Bronson found he had missed the fiver by a minute. Had the brutes reported for duty immediately on arrival he would have won it “on his head.”