Birdman of Balboa Island

An older man in a bucket hat and sunglasses sits on a bench along a green harbor railing, one arm outstretched with a pigeon balanced right on his hand, wings still spread from landing. More pigeons crowd the pavement at his sandaled feet, waiting their turn, while the water beyond the railing catches the light in choppy little strokes. He wears a easy short-sleeved shirt and shorts, watch loose on his wrist, completely unbothered by the birds pressing in around him. There’s a stillness to him in the middle of all that fluttering motion, a man clearly used to this exact spot and this exact company.