The Pigeon Man of Damascus

Photograph via Daniel Demeter

The brilliant blue skies above the ancient city of Damascus are suddenly filled with small black dots moving in formation, left to right, in circles or in waves.

​It was a hypnotic sight that I would watch like a TV show in the late afternoon from my apartment window. The pigeon coop was on the rooftop of the apartment building across from the beautiful 13th century Mosque of Muzaffar, commonly known as Jami' al-Hanabila. The ancient white minaret adorned the brilliant blue Damascus sky and as that bright sunlight hit the white stone, the effect was transcendent. 

The pigeon man stood on the rooftop with his long pole, which he had tied a small strip of white cloth to the end of. The pigeons swayed left to right, up and down, swirling in the blue sky like little ballerinas on wings, obeying the pigeon man’s every command. I watched his skill; the calls that he made to the pigeons would puncture the relative stillness of that corner of Jabal Qasioun (or Mount Qasioun), where our latest apartment was situated.

My children played quietly with their toys as the peace that this particular area exuded permeated through our home. When people think of Damascus, peace is not usually a word they tend to associate with it. But Damascus is strange that way—especially, I felt, this particular mountain. The pockets of peace or times of tranquility can be as overpowering as the violence that lies in its shadows.

The pigeon man became a pastime that filled those days with a sense of order. After the late afternoon prayer, he and his pigeons began their ballet. I would sit watching him and wonder at his mastery over these birds, always amazed that they didn’t try to escape. I sensed what only can be described as love between them, and that kept me watching. It was more than master and servant, it was more than a command of man to birds; they were as if one. The man ended and the birds began.

These fanciers, or pigeon fliers, are descendants of an ancient Syrian practice that continues to this day. War and modernity has impacted this long heritage but on the rooftops of Syrian cities, one can still see the pigeons (or, for most fanciers, doves) performing their dance.