This delightful bird has been adding a soothing soundtrack to the early cup of tea I’m sipping outside as the sun rises. Somehow it makes the first Earl Grey of the day taste that much nicer. I must though get on and take Julie hers in bed, then get out on the salinas.

For me, the lighting made this a must to capture, and include here. Somehow, perhaps reflection from the house’s white wall, illuminates this sweet looking bird nicely, despite the fact the sun is rising almost behind her/him.

A few moments later and he/she is back wooing his/her wife/husband rather than me. It is the ‘charming’ way that these birds interact with each other, a visual epitome of love, that made them such popular birds to keep. I think I can understand that, even though the thought of keeping birds captive repels me. Beauty and sadness in one neat package: a metaphor of life itself perhaps.

I ought to include a local bird I suppose. I caught this dove watching me as I walked past, so I watched back. We both agreed it was a nice day, and, with permission of course, I took her picture.

most birds will move their heads to get a better look, and to compensate for limited stereo vision (hey they get near 360 degree view in exchange). That somehow makes many of them look as tho’ they are sizing you up. Well, of course they are. Pigeons and Doves seem especially intelligent when they do this, another reason they are favourites for captivity I suspect.

those of you who might be paying attention will remember the theory about the irises of oystercatchers – well here’s a thing you can clearly see the same here. What does that mean? Gallic shrug of my shoulders! Well, this species has no sexual dimorphism either, but of course we haven’t considered this birds sex, so it means nothing. Look, like I bet every ecologist and evolutionary biologist, I’m a sucker for a nice piece of ‘adaptive story-telling’, even tho’ most are balls. I’ll await the results of more work. Perhaps we need to engage the help of pigeon and dove ‘fanciers’. I do hate that phrase, it has strong overtones of perversion ... let’s move on.

Where do we find urban birds, down on the street of course. Actually, in this case, up on top of a multi story car park. It is a tad windy up here and overcast, but fortunately the top few floors are closed to cars, so it’s only me and the birds up here, just how I like it. But why? Well I had an idea that instead of looking to the countryside I ought to give a little love to those found ‘on the streets’. So this is my first attempt. More will come.

Up here, I have a view of those aerial denizens of Inverness town (it calls itself a city now, I think it won some lottery or other, either way tax payers coughed up for it all, without being asked of course)... oh.. right .. sorry I’m back now. OK, up here alone with the birds you get an idea of how they view the place. It is their world. A tall building is no different to a cliff. And down below, courtesy of litter throwing trash, or trash throwing litter, an endless array of nibbles, from dawn to well past dusk is laid on for them. It’s a high-carb, high-fat smogasbord of delights down there, with added-salt. That’s what I notice, all the birds are looking down, ready to pounce.

This chap is defiled by the term ‘feral’, his street 'threads' are quite beautiful and clean, he’s no tramp, he’s an urban dandy really. Sure he belongs to a gang, you have to up here, but the worse he’s ever done is shit on the odd car. And he’s working now, thanklessly helping to keep the streets clean of litter dumped by those with no appreciation of him or his work, or for much else for that matter. Some call him 'a flying rat', morons. If we didn't dump food on the street - no I refuse to accept the collective 'we' here, I don't do it. I suddenly begin to like my feathered urban friends even more.

He looks at me for a moment, perhaps hoping I’ll dump half a packet of chips or something. Unfortunately, for him, I can sometimes actually go without eating for whole minutes at a time. He senses this and looks back at the streets where so many denizens appear not to have this gift, I take his picture, we’re done for now. Other birds to see.

As I walk away I turn back for a moment and see he’s watching me go, touching for sure, but look we only met a moment or so ago. Unless I am wrong, perhaps he’s just making sure I’m leaving his turf.

As I look at him closer I notice that, although he’s standing against the light, the sky is overcast and not too bright allowing his colours to show well, in fact he’s posing for a picture. I like his posture, and, as I look, I like the lighting more. So, I take a couple. I promise him a chip for his time when next we meet. I hope he forgets.

Today, one of my mates is perched on the eastern end of the top floor. The lighting is dull, the background of distant hills also dull, but looks nice, everything is muted, almost monochrome, I like it. Asking permission of Rocky, an old acquaintance, I take his picture. Unpretentious prettiness.

I think this picture somewhat epitomises my hopes for what I want to show on this website, not boring pictures of rare birds, and not the usual ‘me and my team travelled thousands of miles on an ice-flow with mind-bendingly expensive under-water kit’ to snap this penguin being chased by an orca’ type of picture that shamelessly adorn magazine covers and win awards. No, just a picture that captures the beauty of ‘ordinary' common or garden ones. Birds we all see, walk past, nearly everyday. The more I look at it, the more I see it fulfils that brief. It is a ‘feral’ pigeon, atop a concrete multi-storey car-park, in the middle of a town. And to be sure anybody could have taken it, with almost any camera. No, sorry, I really do like this portrait. I can’t say you will!

As I turn to move on he politely asks if I have finally brought the chips I promised his brother a couple of years ago for his photograph. I bow my head, shuffle my feet, and mumble that sorry I hadn't. My god they have long memories.

Heading south-east from Troupe Head, I am taking the most detours I can, just to nose about for anything. As I drive slowly past a very small bay I spot a pigeon flying toward a cliff face. Reversing back 50m to a small turn leading to a shingle beach, I grab bins, out, unbuckle camera and walk the hundred metres or so north. As I do so I begin to realise I cannot get a direct view into the slight recess about halfway up the fairly low cliff that he’d disappeared into, well not without swimming perhaps 10m out to sea. Yeah, well that’s not about to happen, I mean I like rock doves, some of my best friends are rock doves, but my max swimming distance is directly equal to the depth of the water. I pause and watch.

As I ponder something or other, lack of a boat perhaps, how long it is before I can self-medicate with Rioja (too long, oh so so long) a rock dove flies from just about where I thought I’d spotted him going as I drove past. Are they nesting there I wonder? I decide to sit for a bit and wait. And yes definitely, he flies back in again. It is frustrating. As there are no car parks around here for them, indeed no urban nuffin’ for a dozen miles, could this be the ‘real’ thing, one unseduced by pizzas and chips? I hope so. As I’m about to get up from where I sit, very uncomfortably, he reappears and flies down to the shore. Without asking permission, an egregious omission, (the poet rides again!), as he turns to the sun, showing those colours so brightly, I capture a few. I do wonder who he was. I still do. He was very nice.

A flutter on the edge of my vision draws my attention to this woodpigeon perched on a memorial in the deep moody depths of Darlington West cemetery. I’m really seeking a Nutchatch (hahahaha), but he makes a pretty picture right there, and that is supposed to be the theme of this website! So, I ask nicely, and take a couple.

He’s not in his brightest clothes today but he still provides a lovely contrast to the deep greens and rough textures of stone and trees.

What could be a more common sight? Oh many things really, kids dobbing their crisp-stained fingers to soak-up the latest ThikTok or KrapChat bollox certainly, but I mean look, he's an ordinary pigeon, perched on a gravestone, for anyone who bothered to see, or even photograph. That’s all I did.

It’s a well known fact that urban birds usually have great big things to perch on, here this urban wood pigeon takes a rest and multi-tasks to catch a few autumnal afternoon rays atop, well there is no other way to put this, one of a pair of great big balls adorning a house in Inverness. I’m not sure what message the original owner was sending when he had them put there, but Woody certainly appreciates them.

Again I’m down in the grounds of the University of Stirling, it’s a good place to come across friendly birds, usually anyway. Wandering around the small lochan I see this chap turning over leaves. Their diet is considered almost exclusively vegan so perhaps he’s looking for fallen berries seeds etc. but, just mebbe, he’ll add an insect or two if he comes across them. I can’t actually see what it is.

So I politely asked, and simply got this look of contempt for my troubles. Well so much for friendly birds. I wondered if he thought he was superior to other pigeons, or to me, him being a university bird an’ all. I ask what degree he got, “2:1” he rather haughtily replied. I laughed, and walked away.