We had hiked a lot that day, but from our window, the beach beckoned. Everyone and their dog was out. Who could resist the low tide, and the lovely golden light before sunset? We went out. The gulls dove around us, scooping up small shells from the beach and dropping them on the rocks to crack them, sometimes having to try it a second or third time. We found ourselves caught up in  watching them. 

One gull ambitiously attempted to fly off with two abalones connected by and encrusted with barnacles. He did not make it more than an inch or two into the air with this heavy load and eventually abandoned his find and began to search elsewhere for food. S decided to make an easier meal for the gulls, and taking a large stone, broke open the shells revealing the orange flesh. Then we drew back to watch.  

Soon another gull had found the feast and started scooping out and eating the abalone meat, enjoying himself so much that it was hard not to be vicariously satisfied. Gulls have few peaceful meals since other gulls are quick to steal whatever food they can from their more successful peers. I've also seen larger, older gulls easily chase off younger gulls. Our gull was very big. It had virtually no gray feathers, signifying that it was also fairly old. I'm trying to recall if it still had some small gray spot. Other gulls did begin to show interest in the food and a few came over and managed to snatch a little bit. 

Our gull began to use his begging call, lowering his head and emitting a piteous cry as if he were a young chick, all the while devouring more of the feast that had been laid open for him. This begging call was a sound we knew well from having watched two gull parents raise their chicks on a roof top right across from our window. I've heard that gulls use begging calls for purposes other than extracting food from their parents, but I was nonetheless intrigued with this adult gull's specific use of the call. His technique did seem effective for what I presume to be his purpose. Although a couple of other gulls got little bits of food,  he was able to keep eating with relatively little interference. 

Not "our gull" but an example of a young gull, its feathers still gray

 

 

The Sign of the Rock Pigeon

Yesterday S and I had a lovely lunchtime walk, the weather cool, but sunny. Suddenly S spoke:

“That guy had a pigeon sitting on his head,” he said. 

“What?” I hadn’t seen it.

“Go back and look.” 

So I did. A man stood in his yard, holding a mug of coffee. He wore a t-shirt, shorts, and a baseball cap. On that baseball cap sat a pigeon. Since I had come back to gawk at the man, I felt I should also make conversation. “Is that your friend?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. And I began to learn more of his story. He said he had found the pigeon young—that its parents didn’t want it because of its deformed foot and so he took it home to care for it. He said that inside they had a very large cage and that his wife covered up at night and opened up in the morning. He said they also try to keep it away from the bearded dragon’s cage. 

At one point the man coaxed the pigeon off of his head and “Sammy Lou” began to fly—toward me in fact. I held still wondering if he might land on my head. I was not disappointed. I asked S to get a picture. I could feel that my head was a little slippery for Sammy Lou—after all, he only had one foot with claws on it. Eventually he slid down far enough that he decided to fly back to the man's head. 

As this was happening, a woman walking a dog passed by, staring and commenting on the aberrant pigeon behavior. I’m pretty sure she didn’t want a bird on her head. S also said he was glad that the pigeon hadn't landed on his head.

It was only later, as we were walking home that it occurred to me that if Sammy Lou had sat on my head, he might have also pooped on my head, and I lifted a hand to check. Sure enough. I wiped my hand off on the bark of a nearby tree and when I got home, showered and changed my clothes.