Perspectives

It has happened again — another run-in with my nemesis the seagulls at work. At this point in their lives they are almost 3/4s the size of an adult with dark gray feathers. They can flutter their wings but they can’t fly and they still rely on mom and dad for food. They nest on the upper monitor roof in my building. Between the monitor and the main roof there is a five-foot open area running the full length of my ¼ mile building. This is how the juvenile gull entered into my lower work area. His name is Jonathan.

Have you ever noticed that two people can witness the same event and come away with two totally different perspectives of what happened?

DAILY WORK JOURNAL 8/14/2023 Marty Mitchell

Walking through my building on the scrubber deck I spot bird tracks in the dust on the floor of unknown origin. What manner of demon could this be?

There, I see it up ahead — a juvenile seagull. What is it doing down here? There is no food or water for it. In a day it will die. There is no way that I am going to regurgitate sushi and spit it into its beak! I should be a Good Samaritan and help it back to the roof.

Log of Events:

I am chasing the bird now. Its wings are spread but it cannot fly. It is remarkably fast for a running bird. With those flat feet it runs like Gomer Pyle. Catching up to it now — the bird is winded. No — I am winded. We both stop for a breather. I casually ask it, “Which way to the Straits of Dover?” While it is trying to explain, I grab it.

I will secure both wings, take it back to the ladder, climb to the roof and release it.

Ouch! Ouch! Cripes! Although it has no teeth, it has two of my fingers in its beak and is attempting to gnaw them off. It can extend its neck about 8 inches and with the 4″ beak has a 12″ reach. It is now pecking me about the face and at one point has hold of my nose.

Finally at the ladder! I can’t climb with one hand on the ladder and one holding the bird. Think! I will carry the bird in my coveralls! The bird is now thrashing in my coveralls. Looks like a scene from the movie “Alien”. It is pecking places I don’t want pecked. What’s that? Warm, wet, smells like seafood bisque. The demon is pooping in my coveralls!

Finally to the roof! I rummage around in my coveralls, grabbing the gull somewhere in the area of my right knee.

You’re free demon bird! Don’t come back!

DAILY LOG- SEAGULL CADET SEAMAN FIRST CLASS, CLANDESTINE MISSION. 8/14/2023

Commander: On your orders I took position behind enemy lines to find the quarters of the one we call “The Tall Guy.”

Log of Events:

I spotted him early this morning in his chair, eyes closed, and head back with his mouth open. It looked like he was waiting to be fed by his mother. So I fed him.

Nuts, caught, Tall Guy sees me! Must make a run for it. Tall Guy is right on my tail! With his barn boots and flat feet, he runs like Gomer Pyle. Trapped, caught, will only give up name, rank, and serial number.

He has both my wings trapped in his large claws. First rule of a POW — escape! Gnawing now on Tall Guy’s fingers. Odd — Tall Guy screams like a little girl. Use extended neck and Karate to peck mercilessly about his eyes.

Tall Guy has thrown me into solitary confinement in his clothes. It smells bad, like a old sweaty man. Must find a way out or take evasive action. Should I take the cyanide or poop? Poop!

The blighter has his hands in his clothes. Must hide behind his knees. Arg! Caught!

More chewing on the fingers. More girl screaming. A final beak to the face. I’m free! Tall Guy is no match for Cadet Seaman First Class. Feeble minded twit.

And so I submit this report to you Commander. The mission was a success!

Yours truly,

Jonathan Livingston- Seagull

Title Photo: Andrea Gironacci

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