PIGEONS and POLICE

A rock dove posing as a homing pigeon for this story.

A true tale about pigeons, police, ill conceived World War One legislation, oh and concluding with an amusing, if a tad ‘tongue in cheek’, example of innovative, pre AI, communication.

A few years ago I was contacted, out of the blue, by the owner of a publishing company who asked if I would write three books for him. I had never written a book before hence my discombobulation at his request. I asked, ‘Why me?’

His reply surprised me, ‘You have been writing two blogs for several years and I have read every one of them, I know you can write a book.’

I asked if he would allow me one month to think about it.

I packed my rucksack the next day and headed north for a week to a mountainous area of Scotland, a place called Assynt, where I stayed in a couple of bunkhouses wandered hills and glens, and sat by rivers and lochs looking for inspiration and, to be brutally honest, thinking, how do I go about writing a book, where do I start?

A month later we met again and I agreed to accept his challenge.

His reply sent me into another spin, ‘Good, but will you write a book about your police life and police experiences first.’

That is why I found myself in the Archive of Stirling Council a few weeks later looking through old Council Minutes and old police files. Whilst doing so I happened upon a fascinating document referred to in a Chief Constable’s Order, dating back to 1914 and the First World War, highlighting the possible danger to our nation presented by Homing Pigeons.

Yes, you read that correctly, Homing Pigeons.

It appeared that such was the risk they posed to our security, the Government saw the need to introduce controls on them. To be accurate, not so much the pigeons, more the pigeon owners. It appears the Police Service was seen as a crucial player in controlling the ‘clear and present danger’ to our realm caused by pigeons and their owners.

The role of Chief Constables in this regard was clearly directed by the provisions laid out in the Defence of the Realm Regulations 1914.

Pigeons were something the police had to take account of. To be more accurate, homing or carrier pigeons. The area to which the regulations applied embraced the whole of the United Kingdom, although the part of the regulations I read concerned themselves with Scotland. I assume the same applied to English Chief Constables, although I have to confess I did not look into that doo’cot (dovecot being the English equivalent).

What follows is the actual wording of the Special Order sent out to officers of the Stirlingshire Constabulary on the first day of October 1914. It illustrates that responsibility and was penned thus;

‘The regulations provide as follows:

No person shall in any area which may be prescribed by order of the Secretary of State keep or have in his possession any carrier or homing pigeon unless he has obtained from the Chief Officer of Police of the District, a permit for the purpose (said permit may at any time be revoked) and the Chief Officer of Police may, if he considers it necessary, or expedient to do so, cause any pigeon kept in contravention of this regulation to be liberated’.

It goes on a bit longer, explaining, amongst other things, what action will be taken if a contravention of the regulation is discovered.

That last part brought a grin to my face and, I confess I stifled a giggle, but not quickly enough, before being ‘tut-tutted,’ by the alert and less than amused Archivist. The ‘amusing’ section comes at the end of the actual regulation part of the order and states;

‘A police officer may, if finding the situation necessary and if expedient to do so, cause any pigeon kept in contravention of this regulation to be liberated.’

I had a vision;

Constable, in all seriousness, visits the selected pigeon doo’cot and carefully and with due reverence to the residents, counts each and every pigeon and relevant permits.

Horror of horrors, there is a violation and he must make a decision. The safety of the realm is in peril, and more importantly, his chances of promotion if he errs. Not a time for faint hearts. The offending pigeons, once identified, are shoo’ed, from the comfort of their perches and shown the door. Once liberated the banished pigeons shake their feathers, look about in disgust, then take off and disappear into the night sky. Never to return, thinks the beaming officer..

Expelled pigeons heading off into the night.

Constable leaves the locus of the crime, chest out, job done! Realm well and truly defended.

Next task, find the nearest kettle. Tunic over back of chair, braces, or should I say suspenders, liberated from shoulders, just in time to see the water boiling in the kettle.

Meanwhile, back at the crime scene, the Treasonable pigeons fly and glide around for a while, like they do(o), before demonstrating some pigeon-like high arching circles, followed by a few low and speedy flypasts, then when the coast is clear and after a ‘coo’ ‘coo’ signal from the legal pigeons still ensconced in the comfort of their doo’cot, they swoop home and ‘coorie doon’ beside their legal chums.

Hmmm! Who thought up that regulation?

Following is a different pigeon-related story. Many years later. Absolutely true and one I can vouch for because I was there.

I was Sergeant of a unit of police officers who did not routinely wear police uniforms. We were located a few miles from the nearest uniformed police establishment. The telephone lines at the unit were out of order and had been so for nearly a week.

Coincidently one of my officer’s hobbies was homing pigeons. He entered them in races and kept them in a doo’cot in the back garden of his house some miles away in a different town.

On the Thursday of the week we were innocent of telephones, that ‘pigeon fancying’ officer brought in a small wicker carrier basket containing six of his pigeons from their loft at his home, some thirty miles from this location. He only brought them in to show them to the officers in the group, simply because they had expressed interest in his hobby.

During our lunch break, he treated us to a mini lecture on pigeons, showing us how the wings spread out, what various feathers were called and how ‘racing’ was organised.

Lecture over, pigeons placed back in their wicker carrying basket. We then headed outside the office to release our celebrity feathered custodies from a nearby grassy area.

As we trooped out of the office to witness the release, we bumped into, on the stairs, a telephone engineer, complete with toolbox. Really!

I asked who he was, as if it was not obvious.

He said he was there to fix the telephones. I told him he was too late. We would not be requiring the telephone anymore, we have invested in alternative technology. In fact, if he followed us he would see the new technology in action as we are just about to send that day’s mail to headquarters.

He looked a bit puzzled and followed us to the grass area and watched in disbelief, turning to laughter, as an array of pigeons carefully flapped their way out of their basket, ascended into the sky, circled over our position a couple of times, to get their bearings, then headed off in the general direction of their home.

One of my colleague’s pigeons getting its bearing before soaring off into the wide blue yonder.

I honestly believe the telephone engineer will have dined out on that story for years.

Oh, the books, I did write the three he asked for. I am presently working on a fourth.