Rights activists aim to bring shooting of pigeons to a halt

The tones of an electronic bullhorn blared through a windy, chilly central Illinois afternoon, sounding the first 11 notes of "Home on the Range." A man's voice cracked through the bullhorn: "Oh give me a home, where the blood-thirsty pigeon killing perverts roam … that's right, that's you! You're a pervert! You're a wimp! You think you're such a man, but you're not a man! There's not a man among you!"

About 75 yards away, several men stood motionless, some leaning on a pickup truck, some wearing camouflage clothing, some in several layers of sweatshirts cover oversized bellies. One smiled, but most stared ahead at their tormentor, a combination of bewilderment and disgust creasing their faces. Where were they there? They've been holding pigeon shoots in these parts for years … is it wrong now? If the answer was blowing in the stiff Saturday wind, it was not apparent.

April 21, 1991

The Beacon News (Aurora, IL)

By Steve Lord

CANTON, Ill. – The last place Betsy Burdette expected to be Saturday morning was standing alongside a country road just outside this city of about 12,000 people.

But there she was, her long brown hair matted down underneath a sweatshirt hood, the rest of her slight frame packed under layers of clothing, shivering alongside state Route 78, next to the Donald Holford farm and gun club property.

She traveled more than 20 miles southwest of her Peoria home Saturday morning to participate in an animal rights movement protest of a pigeon shoot, one of about 20 held in the state each year. Burdett3e decided to participate after seeing videotape on a Peoria television station Friday night of a similar shoot in Pennsylvania.

"I don't see how anyone could consider this a sport," she said, her soft face expressing hard feelings. "It really upset me, seeing it."

Protesters converge

That was the plan of about 50 people from different segments of the animal rights protest movement, led by Plano resident Steve Hindi and his brother, Greg, who gathered en masse Saturday to protest the live, shotgun shootings of pigeons for money. This national shoot, held each year in April in Canton, requires a $150 entry fee. To enter – both the shoot and the property during the shoot – a person needs to know somebody else involved. The first-prize winner could win more than $5,000.

Animal rights activists have branded the shoots as barbaric. The pigeons are kept in boxes, then released. According to the plan, the birds fly in the air, and the shooters have two shots to bring one down. Activists said pigeons often are injured and left for dead, or are killed by boys hired to wring the injured bird's necks, or to stomp the life out of them. Sometimes, the injured ones get away.

"We carried a carload of injured birds back with us in January," said Harold Schessler of Plano, a veteran of similar protests last fall in Pennsylvania and in January in Wilmington, Ill. "Some had their wings clipped, some had their eyes shot out. This is a very violent thing they are doing here, with no purpose."

The reaction to such violence was, itself, often violent. The Hindis and several other protesters patrolled the parkway in front of the Holford property lake rabid dogs kept outside a rabbit cage. The shooting was done in the back, out of sight. But protesters could hear the double shots ring out. Constantly yelling inside at whatever participants they could see, the protesters baited participants by questioning their heritage, sanity, intelligence and sexual security. Greg Hindi of Carol Stream held a sign with a large target.

"Shoot me!" he screamed. "You're such men, shoot me! I'll guarantee you, I'll fight back!"

In sheep's clothing

Among the herd of protesters outside the Holford farm property, there was a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Refusing to give his name, the Canton native, about 35 years old, said he takes pictures for the local newspaper, and used to work for Donald Holford. A relative was inside the property Saturday, cooking lunch.

"They would have let me in if I'd gotten here sooner," he said.

There was no comment from the shooters, club members of Holford. The Canton native said Holford said several weeks ago it was the protesters' right to protest, but he would not comment. He kept good to his word, as did shoot participants, who barley reacted to the verbal epithets hurled at them.

"This has been going on for years," the Canton native said. "I don't see anything wrong with it. There is a pigeon problem downtown. There are a lot of large, vacant buildings right now, and they nest in there.

Biggest stick

Frantz Dantzler of Lansing walked the softest of all the protesters, but carried the biggest stick.

As regional director of the Humane Society of the United States, Dantzler quietly mingled with protesters, staying as inconspicuous as a 6-foot, 3-inch man with a yellow jacket on can.

Dantzler promised his organization would find out why as soon as this week, and begin working on getting legislation passed to outlaw pigeon shoots. There is such a bill in the legislature now, he said.

Joining the Humane Society were Hindi's organization, the Fox Valley Animal Protectors, and Animal Rights Mobilization, or ARM, of Chicago.

"This is the first chance we've had to do something in the state," Barbara Chadwick, of ARM, said. "I think even hunters oppose this."

"These probably will be illegal soon," he said, shrugging his shoulders.