April 2013 - Egg Suck Blog

I haven’t reported much on the plague of gulls, lately, but that’s not because it’s in any way abated. Rather, they’ve upped their sophistication, to the extent that they know I’ll shoo ’em after daybreak, so they’ve begun arriving early. And by “early,” I mean “at the arse crack of dawn; while I’m still sleeping; six thirty or earlier.” They eat. They scream. And now, apparently, they boak all over my balcony. Talk about uncalled-for. I woke up yesterday morning to rather an odd sort of squawking — higher-pitched than usual, and a bit strangled — and no sooner did I reach for my whistle, to frighten the miscreant away, than it SPEWED ALL OVER MY BALCONY! As if the effluvium from the other end wasn’t bad enough, I’ve got to have gull vomit. I thought the gull might stay away, at least, if it had indigestion, but apparently the projectile boak was just…making room for more. Bloody thing woke me up three more times, calling its mate to come and share a meal.

In the event that anyone thinks I’m overstating the volume or egregiousness of the gullsong, here’s the avian alarm clock, itself:

The morning symphony

Now, imagine that repeated at great length, every ten minutes or so, from first light till the moment one rolls out of bed. I might have to start getting up at six thirty, to avoid an hour and a half’s broken sleep. These gulls are really eating into my shuteye. I find myself drowsy and irritable. And they do eat an awful lot. I never used to run through this much seed and suet. Even the crows are content with a few beakfuls; the gulls eat till they’re fit to pop.

In other news, I saw Mr. Dolgonosov in the garden again, today. I was leaning over my railing, watching the starlings, when he emerged from behind a bush, and looked right at me. I ducked back inside quickly, then remembered I wasn’t doing anything to be ashamed of, and went back out. Dolgonosov was still staring. I stared back, till he went away. Barmy old coot. I hope he moves away, soon, or gets eaten by a gull.

I encountered an exceptionally foolish bird, this morning: a sparrow determined to land on my Venetian blinds. Of course, it couldn’t, since the window dressings are on the inside. It only succeeded in wiping itself all over the glass. Filthy thing it was, too: it left great greasy wingprints everywhere. I can’t reach high enough to clean them off. Silly, silly bird. Eventually, it got the memo, and sat on the railing with its friends. Maybe I should put a better perch out, though — something non-slip; something easier to cling to. Amusing as it is to watch crows and sparrows overshoot their landings, and go sliding off the edge, it can’t be good for their little feet (or their little egos).

On a less pleasant note, I haven’t seen my song sparrow, lately, the one with the wonky toenails, that frequented my feeder all winter. Since the house sparrows showed up, it’s been missing in action. They must’ve shooed it off again, much as they did last year. I hope it’s still alive, and finding enough to eat.

Also missing in action: my hummingbirds. Well, those aren’t missing, per se — I still hear and see them, every day. Only, they’re snubbing my feeder, in favour of the flowers that have begun to blossom all over the garden. Who’d have thought they’d prefer the genuine article? Fickle rotters. I suppose they’ll be back in the autumn, when pickings are slim. Till then, I’ll have to content myself with distant glimpses. How annoying! I’d hoped to see more of them when the weather warmed, not less.