So there we were, merrily shooting many hundreds of clay pigeons, when it dawned on me to ask where these poor unfortunate creatures cames from. It is a fascinating tale full of derring do, capers, high jinks, flavoured milk and a bevvy of beauties....but it all ends in the breeding of clay pigeons. Suffice to say, I will not go into the sordid and to be fair, private, ways that these wonderful animals 'get it on'...but once the deed is done it is a mere matter of days before the baby clay pigeons are born. Usually in clutches of 10 to 15, the one centimetre clay pigeons have to be protected from ravens, hawks, chopper pilots and TV weather girls...for all of whom the wee babies are a highly sought after delicacy. After a week, they have grown to full size, and their plummage, displaying the club or manufacturer's brand, is fully developed. They then undergo an intensive 12 month training regime, preparing them for all the various ways they may be fired out of a trap. After their passing out ceremony, a week in Tahiti and some free chips...the clay pigeons are shipped off to their new homes, ready and willing to be shot at by humans with guns.
It is a life...hmmmm?
Pompom.
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