Feeding Frenzy

We don’t, as a rule, feed seagulls. Nobody who lives on the coast does. There are even signs telling people not to, but we still see day-trippers tossing the odd chip in their direction. 

Most of us watch the skies warily if we dare to have an alfresco ice cream or sandwich; they will be watching. Even if the sky seems clear, within seconds somehow they know - just know - food is available. You walk nervously, ice cream in one hand, the other hand hovering, ready to either cover it or ward off enemies. 

Sometimes, of course, they outwit you, and the moment your concentration wavers, there’s a swoop over your shoulder, wings brushing your ear, as a yellow beak scoops your carefully chosen scoop and you’re left with an empty cone. 

And I also know you just don’t feed bread to ducks and swans.....

Yet somehow today we find ourselves back at the boating lake with bread. It’s only a leftover heel from an artisan loaf - but I know that doesn’t excuse it. Sorry. 

But the swans have vanished, and the gulls have taken over. It’s as if they staged a coup in last week’s mini ice-age. 

Herring  gulls - adults and juveniles - patrol the boating shed roof, watching, waiting their chance, while the more delicate black headed gulls float innocently. At the first sign of any food, they’re on the move, and before a morsel hits the water, they’re in the air, swooping down, ploughing through water, pushing aside anything in their way. Chaos. The smaller birds don’t stand a chance. 

The morning, incidentally, is beautiful. Blue skies, sunshine, warmth. There’s birdsong and the smell of spring. Hard to believe the icy cold of last week.