Perfect Timing. The seagull decided it had other plans a few seconds after I took this shot on a chilly Inverness morning.
Pigeons. In Flight.
The folk of North Wales are very keen on their pigeon-racing. The pigeon kit (a kit being a shed, I’m not sure of the origin of the word) in which the pigeons live and to which they return from a race seems to vary from being a precarious punch and judy style affair perched precariously on the edge of a cliff or the brow of a hill, to more elaborate constructions which could comfortably house a family of six and a dog.
This is a midrange property.
‘Pigeons in Fliiiiiight!’ in the words of the multi-talented John Shuttleworth. This is a very simple and effective technique, with a bit of Photoshop jiggery pokery. One has to ensure that once one has photographed one’s birds, that the sky is adjusted to as near to white as possible. Then the image is inverted, which gives the odd appearance of birds apparently made of stone.
This was a last minute shot one day as I was leaving Brompton Cemetery. At the Fulham end one can often see enormous flocks of pigeons flying overhead, which can be both exciting and dangerous if you’re caught underneath.
It’s odd how we have misconceptions of things. Rather like sunflowers, which are usually more angular and aggressive than we imagine them in our heads, seagulls in the flesh seem much larger and possessed of more menace than that with which our imagination usually credits them.
This is a Brighton seagull. I have no evidence that Brighton seagulls are more sinister than seagulls in the rest of the country, but I have a theory that they are. There is a malign intelligence behind those beady eyes and a fearlessness that is unnerving.
As I was preparing to take this photograph a local came up to me and said ‘You can go a lot closer, you know. These buggers are scared of no one. He ain’t going to fly away.’ He was right.