The cry of the gull rouses me from my slumber each morning.
It’s not as romantic as it sounds. It’s more of a high pitched squealing really, beginning at an ungodly hour and continuing until I haul myself out of bed and head into the kitchen to prepare breakfast.
The gull in question is a baby herring gull who fell off our roof a couple of weeks ago and was attacked by a neighbouring cat. We picked her up and put in our our back yard where she (or possibly he) has been in residence ever since. We called her Suki, though she goes by other names too; destructo-baby, squawk-a-lot, poo machine etc.
She made herself at home almost immediately, deciding to flatten my once vibrant and upright chives to make herself a nest. She seems to take particular joy in picking up my seedlings and smaller pots in her beak and throwing them across the yard, causing irreparable damage to more than a couple of them.
She eats more than all three cats together and bangs her dish on the ground if I’m not speedy enough delivering her line-caught tuna or seasonal sea food platter. It’s quite endearing really.
She’s also particularly active at the other end. I don’t know if you’ve seen photos of the Indian spring festival Holi, the festival of colours, which is celebrated by throwing coloured paint and water over everything and everyone in sight, but if you have, it’s fairly comparable to how our garden looks now. Except rather than a festival of colour, ours is more a festival of faeces, a parade of poo, a carnival of crap.
Having said all that, we’re very fond of her and are watching with anticipation as she gets bigger and stronger everyday. She’s stretching her wings and managing some little glides now so we don’t think it will be long before she flies off to find her own way in the world. Whilst we’ll miss her and wish her well, I’m looking forward to catching up on a bit of sleep!