I
think the seagull had it in for me.
I
took another one of my half days yesterday, and was enjoying the sun
and the heat (at least the sun & the heat before the clouds
moved in in the early afternoon) by taking a walk along the Lower
Harbor breakwater. As I was making my way toward the rocky section
of the wall, I noticed a very large group of seagulls just sitting on
top of the breakwater, squawking and flapping their wings as seagulls
are wont to do. I thought it kind of odd, considering most seagulls
in that area spend their time either in Lower Harbor Park or on
Ripley's Rock, but, I figured, they're birds. Maybe they just got
distracted by something shiny.
As
I walked near the group, most of the seagulls scattered. There was
one, however, that either didn't see me, or didn't get the
inter-office memo that I was coming, because it just stood there on
the breakwater, watching me as I walked past. Being raised to have
good manners, I even nodded my head and said "hello" to the
bird as I walked by.
The
bird, however, was NOT raised to be very mannerly. I was about 10
feet past it when I heard a squawk and the rustling of wings as the
seagull took to the skies. I kept hearing this squawk above me, and
looked up to see my friend the bird heading toward me, wings fully
extended and its vocal capabilities pushed to the max.
It
was then I realized that I was being dive-bombed by the seagull.
My
first impulse was look around and to see if the ghost of Alfred
Hitchcock was lurking around. My second impulse was to look around
and see the bird pull up about five feet from my head, and then
circle around to make another pass. It did the same thing again,
this time flexing its talons as it flew by.
The
seagull apparently had it in for me, and I had no idea why.
I
looked around to where the group of birds had been sitting, to see if
I had accidentally stumbled onto a nest, or a feeding ground. I
hadn't; in fact, the only thing I saw were several prime examples of
the calling cards seagulls leave all over the city of Marquette.
Yet, for some reason, I had done something to irritate the seagull
now getting ready to make its third pass over my head. As it swooped
down, squawking, I decided to fight fire with fire. As it buzzed
five feet over my head, I yelled out, as loud as I could, "Hey--
I'm allowed on here, too".
That's
when the strangest thing happened. The seagull pulled up, looking
like it was going to make another run, but then just circled high
above me a dozen or so times, before flying off to join the rest of
the original flock of birds, now bobbing on the waves of the lake.
I
just stood there, amazed. Had I just run into the one seagull on the
planet who listens to reason? Did the sound of my voice scare it
off? Was it just getting bored playing its little game, and decided
to go off and join its friends? I had no idea. As I finished my
walk along the breakwater, I kept my eye on the group of birds, which
remained bobbing up & down on the waves as I climbed over the
rocks, out to the foghorn, and back again. The seagull did not
bother me the rest of the time I spent in its immediate neighborhood.
As
I was getting done with my walk along the breakwater, I turned around
and, being mannerly, yelled out "Bye, bird. Have a nice day!"
I'm sure the Coast Guardsman working on a boat a few feet away from
me thought it a bit strange, but I just wanted to make sure that, the
next time I stroll the breakwater, the same seagull does NOT have it
in for me.
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