Pigeon racers endangered

WESTON—The homing pigeon made her first appearance at about 11:20 a.m., flying in from the east after a 126-mile journey. The 15-ounce hen, known as a blue bar because of the stripes on each wing, circled several times before making her final descent.

Making kissing noises and calling her, Ardeshir Farhadi coaxed the bird onto a loft in his Weston backyard. The hen alighted on the landing pad and walked over an electronic scanner triggered by the bird’s ankle bracelet. The official race time: 4 hours, 26 minutes, and 21 seconds. She was about 45 minutes too late.

Farhadi’s good friend, rival, and teammate on the Norwood Homing Pigeon Club, John Stafford, called him at 10:45 a.m., bragging that his first bird had already made it home from Albany,N.Y., where the race began.

‘‘You can’t blame the pigeons if they’re late,’’ said Farhadi, 56, who has been raising pigeons since he was 10 and growing up in Iran. His bird, he said, apparently went off course and circled back.

For the 12 homing pigeon clubs in the Boston area, racing season began Saturday at 7 a.m., when 865 birds were released from a parking lot in Albany,N.Y. The fliers—or fanciers, as the pigeon racers call themselves—pay a trucker to bring the pigeons to a starting point in a specially designed trailer. Once there, the driver—or liberator, in pigeon-racing parlance—sets the birds free.

The race distances range from several miles to more than 1,000. Saturday’s race averaged 150 miles, depending on where the birds’ owners live. Pigeons typically cover the distance in about 2½ hours, depending on the wind and, as was the case with Farhadi’s bird, whether they slip off course along the way.

Farhadi, who entered 10 birds and is viewed by many pigeon fliers in Massachusetts as one of the top 10 in the state, was one of 77 competitors in the race. That number has dropped dramatically over the past couple of decades, pigeon racers say. Twenty years ago, fliers said, up to 260 competitors raced 3,000 birds at a time.

‘‘That means the sport has decreased by almost 50 percent in the last 20 years,’’ said Matt Moceri, race secretary of the Greater Boston Concourse, which organizes races for 12 teams in Greater Boston.

‘‘We don’t get new guys,’’ he said, and the older racers are dying out.

The sport is heading toward extinction, pigeon fliers said. Most fliers are in their 50s and 60s. They say young people couldn’t care less about a sport that dates to WorldWar II, when the military used the birds to deliver messages over enemy lines.

‘‘Look at me; I’m almost 90,’’ said 88-year-old Forte Galanis, a member of the Western Invitational Pigeon Club in Marlborough who is one of the oldest active fliers in the state. ‘‘I’m living on borrowed time.’’

Fliers point out that these pigeons are not like the ones that forage on sidewalks. Highlytrained, well-cared-for racing pigeons can come with pedigrees and command prices as high as $225,000.

‘‘These are athletes,’’ Farhadi said. Those not associated with the sport, he said, have a hard time understanding the difference. ‘‘All they see is the wild pigeons that poop on statues.’’

Farhadi’s most prized bird is Shabdiz, a red-eyed, 18-ounce, four-time regional champion named after an ancient horse from the Persian Empire. Shabdiz can fly faster than 70 miles per hour with a little help from a tail wind.

Many pigeon fliers said they have invested years of time and thousands of dollars in the sport, and some go to great lengths to protect their investments.

Richard Lacroix, 60, of Upton, who breeds homing pigeons, faces up to six months in federal prison if found guilty of shooting a federally protected hawk that had been feasting on some of his $5,000 birds. His lawyer, David Ricciardone, said earlier this year that Lacroix, who pleaded not guilty, had a right to protect his property.

Although there was no prize money for Saturday’s race, some contests can bring rich rewards to competitors. Farhadi said he plans to spend $2,000 in entry fees to send two of Shabdiz’s offspring to South Africa for an international race with $1 million in prize money.

The Brooklyn-based Frank Viola Invitational, a 400-mile contest known to some as the Kentucky Derby of pigeon racing, guarantees as least $250,000 in prize money.

And sometimes there is gambling on the side, according to some fliers, who would only discuss the topic if their names were not used. Most racers, though, said there are only a few small side bets between friends to add some spice to the competitions. Biologists are not certain how homing pigeons find their way after being dropped in remote areas as far as 1,000 miles away. Eric G. Strauss, a biology professor at Boston College, said the birds apparently use sensory and navigational tools.

‘‘They use the stars at night and the sun during the day,’’ Strauss said.

Homing pigeons usually live from 14 to 18 years, according to the American Racing Pigeon Union. Some race for only a few months, competitors say, while others may last a dozen years. But for many pigeons, racing is a prelude to an ignominious end. Although some pigeons are donated to fledgling fanciers after their racing days are over, others are sold to restaurants, fliers said. Efforts are being made to recruit potential young fliers or fanciers, as the competitors call themselves.

The Northampton-based Northwest Racing Pigeon Club in the past two years established a 20-member team of elementaryand high school-aged children.

‘‘Not everyone wants to play baseball and soccer,’’ said Tim Tessier, a former high school teacher who serves as adviser to the Northwest Junior Flyers. Tessier said he’d be more than thrilled if half the students continued with the sport after finishing school.

‘‘There are just so many things for kids to do these days,’’ said Karen Clifton, executive director of the Oklahoma-based American Racing Pigeon Union, who characterized efforts to interest young people as ‘‘taking baby steps.’’ Farhadi’s 15-year-old son, Ardelan, goes out with his father on some race days, but the boy said he’s too busy for any sport that involves so much work.

A member of the Weston High School debate team and a straight- A student, Ardelan said he would rather spend what little spare time he has at the mall, watching movies or television, or talking with friends online.

‘‘I’d like to do pretty much anything rather than be out here,’’ he said on Saturday while his father scanned the sky waiting for his birds to arrive.

Ardelan said he has tried to get more involved in the sport, to spend more time with his father.

Although Ardelan spends time with him on race days, he said, he can’t imagine putting in the hours his father does to be successful.

‘‘I always see him cleaning and feeding them,’’ Ardelan said. ‘‘It’s only one hour a week that I see him happy. It doesn’t seem worth the effort.’’

Ardeshir Farhadi smiled. ‘‘One really has to be devoted to them if you want to have fun,’’ he said.

Franco Ordonez can be reached at fordonez@globe.com.