Tuesday, July 08, 2008

Unhappy ending

Seagulls are sort of horrid things in their rubbish-scavenging, sandwich-snatching, washing-pooping-on ways.

But the chicks on our roof are very cute fluff-balls, with ginormous wading legs that seem to belong to some other bird - as though they have borrowed their mummy's shoes. Only they are legs.

One fell off our roof. It seemed alright so I borrowed a ladder and we scooped it up in a box and shoved it back up again. I had hopes it would be ok, its parents seemed to be looking after it despite its adventure. But when I wandered outside in the late evening, it was by the bin again. By morning it had died.

It seemed a bit smaller than its siblings, so maybe it was the runt and maybe it didn't fall, it was pushed? That's nature for you. It could have been the wind rather than murderous nest-mates as well.

What kind of July is this anyway? I want my money back.

The recently deceased.

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