Sunrise, sunset. And pigeons.

We tend not to notice pigeons, living in urban areas. They are always underfoot, like stray bits of windblown paper; they sit on ledges of old stone buildings and smear them with white droppings, they beg at the open-air tables around coffee shops. Beautiful or not, they are considered a nuisance; the only ones delighted to see them are the three-year-olds chasing them at the quay.

And Laurie, who definitely is not three years old. And now me; his enthusiasm is catching.

Did you ever watch a flock of them flying on a windy day? They indulge themselves in elaborate aerial maneuvres; a warm-up of circles and figure-eights, a sprint down the river and back, wings flashing in the sunlight. Soon, the large flock will split in half, each contingent veering off in a different direction, swirling, dipping and soaring. Then suddenly, the two half-flocks will spin towards each other and merge, head-on. You would expect a crash or two, a pigeon falling out of the sky, but, no, they twist and turn, merging seamlessly. And then they're off, racing around the tallest building, getting up speed before they divide, to do it all over again.

For the last 5 or 6 years, Laurie has been documenting a different behaviour, first in Burnaby, and now here in Delta.

Almost every morning and evening throughout the years, a group of pigeons has gathered on a wire in an open spot, to watch the sun rise and set. (We imagined other reasons; waiting to be fed, no evidence for that; "report", as nurses do, before going on shift -- nah; "morning devotions", ditto. Watching the sun it is.)

They gather sometimes well before dawn, and often at the first hint of sunset. As soon as the sun is full down, they leave, but they hang around longer in the mornings, sitting quietly, almost reverently. Very little fidgeting, no billing and cooing. Just sitting, it seems, meditating (Om...) on the light and colours. They mostly sit facing the position of the sun at the moment; sometimes in the evening, both the western and eastern skies are lit up; at those times, some sit one way, some another.

Here, just above the church parking lot next door, about 50 - 60 pigeons meet. After the festivities are over, they leave, to spend the day, probably, around the malls to the north and south of us. Wherever it is, we don't see them around here. Except at these times.

Misty dawn, from the balcony. Two tightly-packed rows, facing east.


Another dawn, a warmer day. One row left; some have already gone about their day's labours.


Supper time for us, still a bit early for a fall sunset. But there are already three rows waiting. Facing east, mostly; they seem to know where the first colour will show.


Blue skies. Facing west. First congregants, about half an hour before the light show begins.

Of late, I've noticed one seagull joining them. But he sits on the church steeple.