Subtitles section Play video
-Yes!
Ha ha!
THOMAS MORTON: Hi, I'm Thomas.
We're on the outskirts of Beijing.
And $1 million worth of pigeons just flew over my head
on their way back home.
Like most rational humans, we consider pigeons vermin,
Flying bird shit dispensers who spread disease and
antipathy wherever they fucking land.
Here in China, they take a slightly more progressive view
of the pigeon, 20 years ago, sort of a poor man's delicacy.
But now, with the new Chinese economy, it's become a rich
man's play thing.
Instead of spending their money on wine and cars,
Beijing's new billionaires are spending hundreds of thousands
of dollars on racing pigeons.
The same flying rats we kick in New York have been turned
into luxury goods, with pigeons auctioning for up to
$330,000 per bird, which has turned pigeon racing from an
old man's hobby into, if not the sport of kings, at least
the sport of China's young princes.
Billy from Vice China is going to help us guide our way
through the ritzy underworld that is Chinese pigeon racing.
We're at the Pioneer Pigeon Club.
It's basically a fancy country club for
people who raise pigeons.
These are the guys who are racing pigeons behind us.
They are all really well-monied noveau elites.
If China's upper crust looks a little, well, murdery, it's
for good reason.
There really isn't an old money here, considering they
just started capitalism 30 years ago.
Everybody who's rich now got rich on their own, and often
through less than savory enterprises.
So the way the race works is all the pigeon owners bring
their pigeons here.
They buy an anklet for it.
That costs us 5,000 kuai, which is a little
under $1,000 American.
And they take all the pigeons, load them up
on that truck there.
Truck drives way the fuck out of town.
And then, the first one home wins.
Once they get to the launch site, the pigeons are released
en masse and use their homing instincts to fly back to their
individual roosts.
Since the distance varies from roost to roost, the winner of
the race isn't the first bird to land, but the one who
maintains the fastest average speed in flight.
This is tabulated by whoever's putting on the race behind
closed doors, then announced via the web and mass text,
which makes pigeon racing not only a horrible sport to
watch, but also an extremely easy sport to fix.
So the truck is just about loaded.
I think there's two more trays that are going to go in there.
And then, this whole thing gets covered.
So it's night time for birdies.
And then, we go launch them.
This is the new money.
This is the thoroughbred racing of China--
dirt birds.
Hi, Mr. Bokun.
MR. BOKUN: Hi, ni hao.
THOMAS MORTON: Ni hao.
MR. BOKUN: Ni hao.
THOMAS MORTON: Good to meet you.
The man to beat this year is Mr. Bokun who, despite getting
into the sport two years ago, has already won multiple
championships and owns one of the most expensive flocks in
China, as well as his own racing association.
MR. BOKUN: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: He also has two professional trainers who look
like the nunchuck guy from "Double Dragon." They care for
his birds and chauffeur them to the races in their own car.
Do you have a favorite out of all these?
He's going to pull it out.
Oh, that's where?
He rides shotgun.
BILLY STARMAN: Yeah, yeah.
THOMAS MORTON: That's the one.
MR. BOKUN: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: After registration, Mr. Bokun
invited us over to his modest 10th and 11th floor walk-up to
see where he keeps his championship breeding flock.
MR. BOKUN: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: Thank you very much.
Your hospitality and generosity
are kind of in surfeit.
MR. BOKUN: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: They all look gorgeous.
They don't look like pigeons almost.
MR. BOKUN: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: Are you worried, is anybody worried,
that the cost of entry to pigeon racing might exclude
some people in the future?
MR. BOKUN: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: Can I ask, what kind of company do you run?
How did you start in business?
Thank you.
MR. BOKUN: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: While modesty or perhaps the much repeated
honor kept Mr. Bokun vague about the source of his
riches, he's in essence the very model of a Chinese
self-made man.
After ascending the ranks of the local Communist party, he
brought a number of lucrative development contracts to his
neighborhood, changed his original surname of Hong to
the more elegant Bokun, and set to work building his
fiefdom of leisure, which includes the country club I'm
currently shagging his balls at.
[LAUGHTER]
MR. BOKUN: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: We're just riding to a country club now
with a Chinese ex-gangster's grandmother's wedding vase.
I feel like we might have bit off a little more than I can
chew with this pigeon racing.
Mr. Bokun is what Beijingers call an older brother, which
is a friendly sort of honorific like "good old boy,"
but also a loose demonym for the Chinese underworld.
Later that day, Mr. Bokun took us for a multi-course lunch
with his wife and business associates at a fancy
restaurant featuring one of the largest lazy Susans I've
ever plucked food from off of.
THOMAS MORTON: So what's this area called?
MR. BOKUN: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
ASSOCIATE: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
MR. BOKUN: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: Thank you.
MR. BOKUN: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
BILLY STARMAN: They want to kill the fly, so--.
THOMAS MORTON: Oh!
This fly's lineage must be very impressive.
This isn't just like an
ostentatious display of wealth.
We just left three or four full meals on that table
slowly revolving.
I feel like a lot of this has been geared towards impressing
us and/or intimidating us.
And it's kind of working.
Pigeon racing emerged from war, where messenger pigeons
have been used for thousands of years on the battlefield to
carry vital military communication.
The pigeon's homing ability meant that a bird released
from hundreds of miles away could find its way home with
pinpoint accuracy.
As the army phased out pigeons for new technology like the
telegraph and Twitter, pigeon racing took off as a hobby,
especially well in well-pigeonated areas like
Belgium and Scotland.
It also caught on in China.
At least, until Mao banned the sport for promoting
capitalistic tendencies, essentially because it was a
hotbed for gambling and corruption.
However, once China embraced its own capitalistic
tendencies in the '80s, pigeon racing was re-legalized and
quickly flooded with new money.
So much money, in fact, that many European pigeon racers
are now complaining that the Chinese are pricing them out
of the sport they started.
But not every young swift pigeoneer is a rich, young
princeling.
Liu Yung has been racing pigeons since he was little.
Like he was little, he keeps his breeding flock on his
apartment balcony, though it's slightly less nice.
LIU YUNG: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: What's the most expensive bird here?
LIU YUNG: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: I'm about to do something I've basically
foresworn ever doing, which is touch a pigeon.
Like this?
Yeah?
He's not going to peck me.
I am holding a pigeon.
LIU YUNG: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: Yeah?
Oh, wow.
Well, I've got a more tender grip.
THOMAS MORTON: There we go.
Whoa, so this is--
BILLY STARMAN: Yeah.
You can hold it.
THOMAS MORTON: Cool.
So this is this bird's trophy?
BILLY STARMAN: Yeah, yeah.
LIU YUNG: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: Can I ask, do you have a girlfriend?
LIU YUNG: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: It doesn't matter?
Cool.
Liu's pigeon expertise may not have won him a trophy girl,
but his heart and dedication is admirable.
The question is, what chance does a balcony racer like him
have against Mr. Bokun's million dollar flock?
Like, that's the actual question, the one we had.
So we went and asked a guy who would know.
Oh, here they are!
These guys are slightly adorable.
I've never seen a pigeon this small.
THOMAS MORTON: Oh, OK.
THOMAS MORTON: Can you not tell by how they're shaped,
how much they weigh?
You have no idea?
THOMAS MORTON: It's all a mystery.
THOMAS MORTON: It's a real underdog sport, then.
XIAO WU: Yeah.
THOMAS MORTON: I like that.
So as Mr. Bokun and Liu Yang prepare to face off against
each other in a race that's being billed as the Triple
Crown of Chinese pigeon racing, it's
either man's game.
Although Mr. Bokun does have a slight advantage in that he
owns the association putting it on.
And therefore, the machines that tally the results.
Ni hao.
-Hi!
LIU YUNG: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: What do you think your chances are against
Mr. Bokun's pigeons and everybody else's?
LIU YUNG: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: What do you win if your comes in first?
LIU YUNG: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
BILLY STARMAN: Half a million.
THOMAS MORTON: Wow.
LIU YUNG: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: Are you going to bet anything
on the birds here?
LIU YUNG: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: Good luck.
What number is the bird I should bet on here?
Which one do you like of yours?
LIU YUNG: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: 164, lucky 164.
All right, cool.
So should we go gamble, make some money?
Which bird should I bet on again, 164?
BILLY STARMAN: 150.
THOMAS MORTON: 150, OK.
Switching it up.
Are we positive?
Oh no, that's Mr. Wei.
That's "Double Dragon." 500 on 150, please.
Betting our last 500 kuai on Liu's bird.
Better come in first, or else we're going to be stuck here
raising our own pigeons.
This is my golden ticket.
Guard this with my life.
Do you want to kiss it?
We should both kiss it.
I'll do the other side.
BILLY STARMAN: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: God knows what you have.
RACER: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
LIU YUNG: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: And so the bird war begins.
So we're now following the pigeon truck out to the
launching site, which is seven hours from here.
Mr. Liu generously gave us a box of baijiu, extremely
strong liquor, to keep us warm tonight, and pigs' feet to
help soak up the liquor.
Oh, oh!
Oh, I thought we were just going to eat i separately.
I didn't think you were going to break the foot in half.
All right.
How's yours?
Good?
BILLY STARMAN: Yup.
I'm in an abandoned parking lot 500
kilometers away from Beijing.
The sun has just come up.
And in a couple minutes, $1 million worth of racing
pigeons are going to shoot out of this van and wing
their way back home.
My understanding was we were going to be in the middle of a
meadow somewhere.
They said, oh, we're going to take them out to a field,
which in my mind was some sort of Mao scene with mountains
and the sun coming up, not like a
derelict industrial ground.
Oh, and somebody's bird is right there.
That one got nailed on the way out and landed.
They just pulled the bird's head out.
That's a little rough.
That's kind of a
they-shoot-horses-don't-they moment.
Right, let's get back in our car and see if we can't beat
these pigeons home.
Once their pigeons have been released, the race is
completely out of the owner's hands.
And it isn't just losing they have to worry about.
Any number of fates can befall their birds on the way home.
They can get attacked by hawks.
They can be eaten by dogs.
They can just get lost.
Scientists aren't even sure how their homing mechanism
works, whether it's by smell, or site, or the detection of
seismic waves.
So there's no safeguarding against it
simply crapping out.
Or they can be captured by pigeon pirates, which we
thought was an inside joke, until we met this guy.
He is a pigeon pirate.
PIRATE: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: The only thing pigeon racers hate worse than
pirates is the weather.
And sure enough, as we made our way back to Beijing, an
unexpected blizzard overtook the race course.
Liu Yung's racers are trained to land at his brother's
rustic mountain hideaway on the outskirts of town.
But by the time we got there, none of his
birds had made it back.
And sundown was fast approaching.
Hey, guys.
LIU YUNG: Hi.
THOMAS MORTON: Ni hao, ni hao.
LIU YUNG: Ni hao.
How's it going?
A little chilly today.
And where do the pigeons land when they were
come in from the race?
LIU YUNG: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: Upstairs?
LIU YUNG: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
BILLY STARMAN: We have 30 minutes.
THOMAS MORTON: Until sundown?
BILLY STARMAN: Yeah.
THOMAS MORTON: Uh-oh.
What happens at sundown?
LIU YUNG: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
BILLY STARMAN: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
LIU YUNG: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
FATHER: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
LIU YUNG: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
FATHER: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: So we just heard from Mr. Bokun that his
champion bird got home the fastest.
So he gets the million dollars.
And it is now the first Triple Crown winner in pigeon racing.
MR. BOKUN: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: That's a great-looking bird.
-Yeah.
THOMAS MORTON: Much better than the ones in New York.
Back in the hills, the news wasn't all bad.
So apparently, 14 of his birds came in earlier this morning.
That's good for him.
Unfortunately, none of those birds are number 150, which is
bad for me.
FATHER: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
LIU YUNG: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: Sorry.
So [INAUDIBLE]
Did it just land?
All right!
Which one was that?
FATHER: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
LIU YUNG: [SPEAKING CHINESE]
THOMAS MORTON: So pigeon racing's sort of the ideal
sport for China's new bootleg economy.
It's a complete shell game.
Nobody knows when you release the pigeons whose pigeon is
going to come in.
Nobody really knows how much the pigeons themselves are
worth, or even how pigeons work.
It's all just based on what people are telling you.
It's like when you take a bootleg item and you slap a
logo on it, and it becomes a luxury good overnight.
That's exactly what's happening in a Chinese pigeon
racing circuit.
You take a $2,000 pigeon.
And you sell it to a rich guy for $20,000.
And it becomes a $20,000 pigeon.
In a country where information is limited, where face is
everything, where appearance is way more important than
reality most of the times, no one's going to
call you out on it.
It's great.
The bootleg system works.
And you can get Pasolini's "Salo" for $1.