Since Vevi and Connie had visited the pigeon cote, all of the Brownies wanted to go there. Whenever the troop went on a hike, the girls usually walked in the direction of Mr. Green’s loft.
The pigeon breeder would not allow the Brownies inside the building lest they disturb the birds. It was fun though, to stand outside, watching the pigeons drop into the roof traps after long flights.
The racers would alight on the building and walk along the eaves. When they stepped into one of the traps, Mr. Green could reach up and grab them by the legs. Then he would feed them and put them in their cages.
Some of the pigeons had gray and blue plumage with black bars on each wing. Others had feathers in a salt and pepper effect. The less common birds were black, red, yellow and silver. Vevi did not see a single one that appeared as white as the pigeon she had found near the lighthouse.
She asked Mr. Green why he did not have more white racers.
“White birds are more prone to attack by hawks,” he explained. “By the way, your bird has recovered its strength again.”
“Then it’s ready to race?” the little girl asked eagerly.
“It’s as ready as it will ever be. As I said, I doubt the bird ever will be much good.”
“But you promised to give it one more chance.”
“So I did,” Mr. Green agreed. “I’m testing out a dozen birds today. I’ll include your pigeon in the lot.”