They’re not afraid of me, at all. Shooing has become markedly less effective. I was up in this gull’s face with a camera, maybe three and a half feet away, and it didn’t even stop eating. I had to go out on the balcony and wibble my fingers at it, to get it to leave. Even then, it barely shifted: it executed a graceless manoeuvre, somewhere between flight and bounce, which took it as far as my neighbour’s railing. There it waited, till I went back inside, and flump, it was back on my feeder.
A gull regards me insolently.
Why’ve I got gulls, all of a sudden? For nearly a year, they ignored my feeder completely, and now I can’t get rid of them. Horrid, messy creatures! I need a plague of starlings, or something similarly aggressive, to frighten them away.
This gull’s beak is smeared with stolen suet and sunflower heart bits. Get out of my feeder, gull!
If you don’t hear from me again, assume I’ve been mobbed and devoured by gulls.
Stop doing that with your head, gull. What a creepy angle!
