The community of pigeons that live in Hebden Bridge town centre sometimes act as one, particularly when it comes to their group callisthenics. They take off en masse, circle round for a while, then all land again. This flock was so large that here you see both the ones nearby, and those in the distance, already further round the circuit. Military exercises spring to mind — the ducks must be worried.
Seen in St John’s Gardens, Manchester. This used to be a cemetery, hence the existence of this decorative cross in the middle, and obviously it’s a good vantage point to keep an eye on humans eating their lunch around the garden (as I was at this point). The impression given by these three pigeons, particularly the butch one on the right, is of nightclub bouncers, ready to pounce on any slight infraction of behaviour.
“There’s not enough room up here. You’ll have to stay down there.”
“Ah, come on you jobsworth. Look, Bob’s up there and he’s not even grey.”
The Hebden pigeon population is well trained, and anyone who simply sits on a park bench for a few moments of contemplation (as I did this afternoon around 3pm) will soon find themselves the object of curious, food-related enquiries from the local birdlife. Feeling in need of a new approach, I tried putting my camera down amongst them at ground level and (not wishing to join everyone down there myself) firing off the shutter at random a few times. This was the best of the shots that resulted. But it may also be a sign that I need to get out of Hebden a bit more.
A generally optimistic sheen to the day. Even the unused footbridge in the arse end of Victoria station has had a new coat of paint, and I suspect the pigeons know this somehow.
This is not the first time that I have photographed evidence that the fake owls that stand on some of the buildings in Hebden Bridge fail to deter the pigeons in any way. But it is the first time I have caught one with a pigeon actually sat on its head. The humiliation is complete.
Correctly, it is owls that gather together in parliaments. But when do you ever see more than one owl together? The term seems to better fit these pigeons, sat on top of the Big Ben-style clock that graces what used to be a hotel in the centre of Hebden, now it’s apartments. Like all stopped clocks, it gives the right time twice a day.
If this fake owl sitting at the top of a building on Bridge Gate ever did deter the local pigeon troops from settling there, it’s long since stopped working. In fact, this photo was supposed to be of a whole bunch of them sat around and on it. But a second before I clicked the shutter, one of those intangible signals went through them all and off they flew, leaving me just with these last two in take-off mode. But I like it, as it makes it appear as if they have in fact decided to abort a landing — maybe, just maybe, because of the ‘owl’.
A veritable battalion of pigeons, in tidy military formation (well, most of them), line up on the roof of the White Swan for the next instalment in the ongoing pigeon/duck war. Recent infiltrations must have provided promising intelligence. The person in the hat walks over the bridge all indifferent, but I have been observing.
“You know, Pamela, there’s nothing like a nice cool bath to smooth out the ruffles after a hard day’s scavenging.”
“Ooooo, I know, duck. Let me just….. ahhh, that’s better.”
“Love the eye-shadow too. Grey’s your colour.”
Being 42 