I'm having a moment (early morning Vancouver)

It is 6:15 am in Vancouver. Standing on the balcony, none of the noises that usually define Vancouver are audible: no cars, no honking, no swearing of people in the alleys.  A full moon is setting over English Bay, and the only thing I can hear are the squawking voices of arriving Canada Geese.  Vancouver almost seems livable again.
A feeling completely different from the one I had last night driving over Cambie Bridge.  One was getting used to the unnatural sprouting forest of display-glass condo towers in Yaletown, but in the middle of the bridge I noticed that another branch of this forest was marching North and West from the former Olympic Village. And looking East one could see the first saplings starting to cross-hatch the sky on the horizon. Crossing the bridge, I felt surrounded by an almost solid wall of people stacked in these human parkades. Even the escape West towards the Ocean looked difficult since seemingly guarded by the advance of highrises up the ramps of Burrard Bridge. A short moment of claustrophobia was extended driving along Smithe through the checker-board of Downtown, where almost every square now had the maximum number of permitted highrises.  While the regular grid pattern of the luminous highrise windows being extended over the grid pattern of the city had an almost artistic quality, a thought forced itself in my mind that was first articulated by Yusuf Islam (the former Cat Stevens):  "But, Where do the children play?"  Poor man! He felt the need to write this song in 1970. What must he feel singing it today?  After all, Cassandra's curse would not have worked without her gifts.

Seems some of that people-phobia was also felt by the seagull visiting the balcony at 7 am:  While previous visitors had  shown no fear or hesitation going after food, this one evaded the first tossed blueberry as if under attack, but took heart (probably after catching it a few floors below) and came back to the railing. However, it would not go after the blueberries rolled onto the balcony floor until I had closed the sliding door and it could see me sitting at the desk in the room again.

And I can't get this question to go away:  How does a seagull pick which balcony to land on? Do they pick a random one?  One where the lights are on in the morning? One where they saw someone on the balcony earlier? None of the above?  This question popped in my mind when I took this picture:  There are a lot of balconies to choose from!