Birds going courting

Just next to the Red Cross building in Pinoso, where the Badén either starts or ends, there’s a modest structure with a sign that reads La Amistad El Pinos – the clubhouse for the local pigeon fanciers and, so far as I know, still very much active. A little way away, in the Santa Catalina district, just above the school where Calle Centro climbs past Calle López Seva, and about a hundred metres on, as the tarmac peters out, a cluster of beehive-like structures crouches on the left. Both places are associated with those pigeons you see from time to time painted in brilliant fluorescent hues, colours that make the Guinness toucan look positively dowdy.

In these corners of Pinoso, the centuries-old Spanish passion for pigeon fancying lives on, dividing into two worlds that rarely meet: the rigorous, athletic Colombofilia and the vibrant, theatrical Colombicultura.

For a cloth-capped British pigeon fancier accustomed to the quiet dedication of the garden loft and/or the great adventure of the occasional cross-Channel race, the Spanish scene offers both a familiar discipline and a striking cultural shock. The Paloma Mensajera, the participant in the discipline of colombofilia, is the direct Spanish cousin of the UK racing pigeon—bred for the same never-yielding homing instinct and clocked via electronic timing chips from distant release points. But it is the multicoloured and somewhat odd spectacle of Colombicultura that feels so strikingly Spanish.

This second sport, the one that sounds less like a race and more like a branch of the plastic arts, is not a dash for home but an intensive test of persistence and ‘gallantry’. It begins with the release of a single female, often marked by a white feather in her tail to help the referees keep her in sight. She is the undisputed star of the show, chosen specifically for her flying quality and exceptional stamina. In this context, the female is an elite athlete, capable of maintaining an erratic, high-paced flight for up to two hours to shake off the less persistent suitors — the ones who decide the girl isn’t worth it and opt instead for a quiet drink somewhere. More proof, if proof were still needed in the 21st century, that the old idea that males are the superior athletes is a load of old cock.

The competition hen is prized for her elusive intelligence and endurance; if she were to land too quickly or fly too predictably, the contest would end prematurely. Biologically, while male pigeons are often larger, these differences do not translate into a flight advantage. In fact, in traditional Colombofilia racing, some of the most impressive records have been set by females — including recent endurance flights covering nearly nine hundred kilometres.

In Pinoso, this tradition is kept alive by the Sociedad de Colombicultura “La Amistad”, a club with a legacy stretching back roughly seventy years. Affiliated with the Federació de Colombicultura de la Comunitat Valenciana (FCCV), the club focuses exclusively on the painted pursuit rather than long-distance messenger racing. Once the macho flock is released, a swirling, chaotic chase begins. Up to a hundred male birds, each painted in a riot of neon vegetable dyes, compete to stay as close to the female as possible. Unlike in the UK, where a bird’s value is measured in miles per hour, here a bird is judged on its devotion.

The scoring is a meticulous process, overseen by referees who follow the flock with binoculars glued to their eyes. Points are accumulated by the minute: the closer a male stays to the female, the more points he earns. This courtship is judged in every environment she leads them into — whether tumbling through the air, navigating the dense branches of a citrus grove, or landing on a tiled roof. The perfect male is one who displays constant attention, a behaviour the Spaniards call celo, remaining ‘pigeon-to-pigeon’ with her for the duration of the match. Celo is normally used to describe animals in heat, but here the meaning feels almost reversed. The males maintain this unwavering attention largely because they have not so much as seen a female since their last outing.

The decoration of these birds is where the sport becomes a visual spectacle. While a British racing pigeon is prized for its sleek, natural plumage, a Spanish pigeon is a canvas of electric pinks, oranges and greens. These markings function rather like a jockey’s silks; because the birds often bunch together in a bola — a ball of feathers — while courting on the ground, the colours are the only reliable way for a referee to identify which bird is successfully holding the female’s attention.

In Pinoso and across the province of Alicante, the sporting season reaches its height in spring, following a demanding calendar of qualifying rounds. These sueltas (releases) are usually held on Tuesday and Saturday afternoons, beginning from local sports grounds or rural lofts to give the birds clear airspace for the chase.

Under the coordination of the national body, the RFEC — the Real Federación Española de Colombicultura — pigeons must first prove their prowess in local and district trials before earning a place in the prestigious Copa Comunitats, a high-stakes regional championship. Although winners receive trophies and medals, the true reward lies in the immense prestige and market value bestowed upon the bird; a champion caballero can fetch several thousand euros on the breeding market. For the pigeons of Pinoso, the ultimate ambition is to secure a coveted place in the national finals, and with it a position among Spain’s elite avian athletes.