There are many things in life that bring joy: sunny beach days, the smell of fresh coffee, the laughter of friends. And then, there are seagulls. These feathered friends have a special place in my heart—right next to stepping on a Lego barefoot and stubbing my toe on the bedframe. Allow me to share with you two traumatic experiences that have cemented my deep-seated aversion to these audacious avians.
The Crêpe Catastrophe
It was supposed to be a delightful class trip, a day of carefree fun with friends. We strolled along the picturesque seaside, the aroma of freshly made crêpes wafting through the air. Naturally, I had to indulge. As I stood in line, the crêpe vendor, with a knowing look, issued a stern warning: “Watch out for the seagulls.” I chuckled, naively dismissing his caution. How bad could it be? (imagining tiny dove-like birds that could be shooed away with a gentle hand gesture)
Crêpe in hand, I turned to rejoin my friends, only to feel a sudden rush of wind and the inexplicable force of two house cat-sized seagulls swooping down like feathered missiles. Before I could react, they snatched my crêpe, leaving me empty-handed and bewildered. The laughter of my friends echoed around me as the seagulls feasted on their ill-gotten gain. The humiliation was profound, rivaled only by a childhood incident where my dog, in a moment of mischief, urinated on a plastic plant in the middle of a crowded shopping center.
The Fehmarn Fiasco
A few years later, I found myself on a seemingly peaceful trip to Fehmarn with my uncle. We were at a bus stop near the beach, enjoying the sea breeze while we waited. Suddenly, our tranquil moment was interrupted by piercing cries of seagulls. These weren’t just any seagulls; they were the local gang, territorial and aggressive.
They began to circle us and their shrill screeching escalated into an outright attack. It seemed as if we had invaded their territory and they were determined to drive us away. We tried to defend ourselves, but the gulls were persistent. They came closer and closer, their beaks snapping just inches from our heads. In a desperate retreat, we left the bus stop and sought refuge further down the road, leaving the bus stop to their feathered overseers.
As we fled, I couldn’t help but think that this aggressive bird behavior was the worst possible way to treat tourists. Instead of welcoming visitors, these gulls were the self-appointed gatekeepers, making sure no one stayed too long in their sandy realm.
The Audacity of Seagulls
Aside from their penchant for public humiliation, what truly irks me about seagulls is their brazen audacity. They screech with the volume of a rock concert, making sure everyone knows that they´re around. They loiter with the shamelessness of uninvited guests, always ready to snatch food or attack an unsuspecting pedestrian. Their persistent presence is a constant reminder that nature can be as annoying as it is beautiful.
To sum it up, seagulls are not just birds. They are flying agents of chaos, determined to turn everyday moments into scenes of slapstick comedy. So, the next time you see a seagull, beware. Behind those beady eyes is a bird ready to disrupt your day. Trust me, I speak from experience.
Glad you are back in your anti-bird-mode! A post that is a lot of fun to read. May the gulls (and other birds but not only woodpeckers) continue to hate you, so we get more posts like this in the future.
You can’t say I didn’t warn you, Sara: https://www.10000birds.com/trash-birds.htm
What a hilarious post! I always keep an eye on the “rats with wings”, especially at the beach. It’s no fun looking at shorebirds and getting pooped on by a gull.
That was a fabulous read! I had the same experience with fish tacos on a beach in San Diego. My first bite was delicious. It was also my last.
Thanks for the comments, they are very funny! Your post would’ve come in handy before 2019, when the Crêpe attack happened, Peter!
Ha!! Wait until you get close to an Arctic Skua nest. They go for scalps, not crepes! 😀
It is true that gulls are agents of chaos, I thoroughly enjoyed your use of that expression. To me, however, they are more. They are indeed my trigger bird. Seeing a Herring Gull as a young boy of maybe 5 or 6 years old perched on a bollard in a harbour in Brittany is my first ever memory of consciously looking at a bird, and I remember clearly to this day – almost 50 years later – how impressed and awestruck I was by the beauty of their pristine colouration. I truly like them to this very day, and they can have a crepe from me anytime they want. 😉