Jack Prescott

I was born in an area where men flew pigeons -- simply because they could afford to do so little else. Socially deprived and in poverty, men could just about afford to keep a few tipplers locally -- and have a little bet on the results on Sunday flys. Tipplers could be kept and trained on just a few pence. The racing pigeon men had to spend quite a bit more. And, so, it came to pass, I grew up with pigeons -- especially Tipplers. My grandfather Prescott lost 1/2 of his hand in an accident and depended on me. In fact, I was his handler and manager even at the age of seven. Most kids in those days could manage pigeons, horses, dogs, ferrets, fowls, etc. We lived rather closer to nature in the 1930's. I reckon that I am a discontinued line, in the catalogue of life. By no means a well educated man and certainly no expert. I just have quite a bit of experience -- is all. I've flown Tipplers for more than 18 hours. I've flown right into dark. I've had all of the joys of Tippler flying and more of my share of the heartbreaks. For Tipplers do make men of fools and fools out of men. In the 30's men flew for a few shillings locally where a 100% watch was kept on the kits. The timers were extremely mobile out to see defectors. In fact, locally, most men were disqualified in contests. There were no "friendly referees".