So I’d just started walking Ava this morning on the trail that winds through town. And a seagull, with obvious deliberation, circles overhead and comes to a landing three feet in front of Ava’s jaws. Then starts walking toward her.<\/p>\n
Ava has a killer prey drive and has sometimes snatched at birds, cats, and in one case a Chihuahua before I could snatch her back. In this case, though, she was completely nonplussed. She looked at me for guidance. I looked at the gull’s sharp, pointy beak. We both made a long, slow arc around the bird and kept on walking.<\/p>\n
Birdo followed. We picked up our pace. Eventually he fell behind.<\/p>\n
But he was there again when we returned, and this time followed us all the way to the car, which was parked in a field next to a seafood processing plant. I got behind the wheel. The bird stood there looking at me. He seemed uninjured, but lost, hungry (repeatedly opening his mouth wide like a baby bird in a nest), and far too trusting of mammalian critters. His left leg bore a tiny blue band.<\/p>\n
I dialed Furrydoc. “What do you know about seagulls?”<\/p>\n
We came to the same conclusion: that this bird had been released (perhaps prematurely) from a rescue, and dropped near the seafood plant in hopes it would learn to feed itself. So far, not so good. It was no more than 100 yards from a seagull’s idea of a banquet and not getting the message.<\/p>\n
Furrydoc gave me the names of two nearby wildlife rescues. I called and left voicemails, but got no humans.<\/p>\n
I knew it wasn’t the most responsible thing to feed the poor guy. But I went home, got a slice of bread, and came back to find Birdo right where we’d left him. Creating a bread-crumb trail, which he eagerly, at first frantically, gobbled, I lured him to a pile of leavings from the seafood processor, dropped the rest of the bread on the heap, and walked off quickly. I figured he’d realize he’d found seagull paradise and stay there, plucking at seafood bits.<\/p>\n
But nope. By the time I was back at the car … so was Birdo, following at my heels.<\/p>\n
I left him there and am now home awaiting calls from people who understand what goes on in the tiny brains of gulls. I know in theory he’s got to learn to survive on his own — or not. But damn, it felt like leaving a kitten or a puppy to fend for itself.<\/p>\n
—–<\/p>\n
That was definitely the strangest thing that’s happened to me in a while. And just this morning, idling before going out into the cool mist, I’d been reading an article about Rod Serling and The Twilight Zone<\/em> and had placed a library hold on a biography of the man.<\/p>\n