![\"Gull\"](\"http:\/\/reggothard.com\/kelvin\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/07\/Gull.jpg\")
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A few weeks ago I wrote a piece<\/a> that was inspired by a news report that a gull had been rescued from a discarded tray of curry. A few weeks prior, I\u2019d written something <\/a>that was inspired by reports that the Finnish Postal Service was offering a lawn mowing service.<\/p>\n The other day, I spotted a report about a mail carrier being prevented from delivering to some houses because of \u201cswooping attacks\u201d by seagulls. \u201cThere must be a link\u201d I thought.<\/p>\n This piece is it. You may want to read Gullsville Episode I\u2014The Phantom Masala<\/em><\/a> and Pushing the Envelope<\/em><\/a> before reading this piece.<\/p>\n Mrs. Gull had just finished clearing away the guano from the previous night\u2019s keg party when Mr. Gull appeared at the entrance to their pied-\u00e0-landfill<\/em>.<\/p>\n \u201cYour timing\u2019s perfect,\u201d she said scornfully. \u201cA couple of minutes earlier and you could have helped me tidy the drum\u2014after all, it was you and your buddies that made the mess. But no, you\u2019ve come home just in time to wreck the place again. Great!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh shut your beak, woman,\u201d returned Mr. Gull. (It should be noted that Mr. Gull was no black-headed gull or yellow-legged gull, but a red-necked gull.) \u201cD\u2019you hear me whining about having to forage for food for you and the eggs?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cActually, yes; all the time!\u201d squawked Mrs. Gull. \u201cAnyway, where have you been?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ll never believe it\u2026\u201d said Mr. Gull gleefully.<\/p>\n \u201cI rarely believe anything that comes out of your beak,\u201d returned Mrs. G. \u201cBut try anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou remember some bloody do-gooder pulled me out of that tray of chicken tikka masala a few weeks ago?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow can I forget? You took me back there for a sunrise breakfast, and then had your way with me on the way home. Hence the eggs.\u201d She flapped her starboard wing in the general direction of the trio of greenish ovoids in the corner of the drum.<\/p>\n \u201cCurry always makes me frisky,\u201d said Mr. Gull defensively.<\/p>\n \u201cCurry, big macs, chips, chow mien, pizza\u2026 they all make you frisky. Eating, flying, waddling, foraging for worms, taunting the terns\u2026 they all make you frisky. Reading bloody obituaries makes you frisky. Basically, you breathe; therefore you frisk.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat can I say,\u201d said Mr. Gull cockily. \u201cAnyway, now we\u2019ve reminisced about how we became expectant parents again, can I get back to my story?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDoes it involve you having your way with me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMight do,\u201d replied Mr. Gull. \u201cAfter all, I\u2019m breathing, aren\u2019t I?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat can be remedied.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnyway\u2026 the story. So I was flying around down by the sea wall, and I spotted that bloody do-gooder that pulled me out of the curry. You\u2019ll never guess what she does for a living?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBird rescuer?\u201d said Mrs. Gull blithely. \u201cCurry purifier? Rubbish Inspector?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe\u2019s a postie!\u201d squawked Mr. G. \u201cA mail carrier. A postwoman. A letter deliverer\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, yeah yeah; I know what a postie is,\u201d said Mrs. Gull. \u201cWhy should I care?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, apart from being great for target practice\u2014I aim for the centre of the postmark\u2014posties get in big trouble from the addressees if they don\u2019t deliver the mail and don\u2019t have a good reason.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd\u2026\u201d prompted Mrs. Gull, anxious to get the story and ensuing friskiness over and done with so she could return to sitting on her eggs.<\/p>\n \u201cAnd I stopped her from delivering mail to an entire street!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHow?\u201d She paused. \u201cDon\u2019t tell me; you told her one of your long, pointless stories then tried to have your way with her.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t be so stupid, woman!\u201d cried Mr. Gull. \u201cI swooped down on her. I must\u2019ve done it fifty times or more. Climb up to thirty metres or so, then plummet until I\u2019m a few feet away from her face and then flap my wings, do my loudest laughing call, and fly over her about two inches from her head. The look on her face; priceless!\u201d He cackled at the memory.<\/p>\n \u201cWhen will you grow up? What if she\u2019d hit you with a stick or something? Those poor eggs would be fatherless.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cStick Schmick! It was a right laugh, I tell ya!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019ll laugh on the other side of your face one day\u2014you mark my words!\u201d said Mrs. Gull with a mixture of malice and melancholy.<\/p>\n \u201cWhatever,\u201d said Mr. Gull. \u201cAnyway, fancy a worm or two for dinner? There\u2019s a lawn being aerated down Gligmorton Road. Always brings the worms to the surface does that. I\u2019ll go and grab a few when the gardener\u2019s finished aerating.\u201d<\/p>\n Mr. Gull waddled to the open end of the drum, freshened up his territory markings, then flew off in the direction of Gligmorton Road.<\/p>\n That was the last that Mrs. Gull saw of her husband.<\/p>\n A few days later, a handsome Kittiwake appeared at the drum entrance, a sand eel in his beak. He asked for and was granted permission to enter.<\/p>\n \u201cI thought you might appreciate some food,\u201d said the Kittiwake, dropping the sand eel on the floor. \u201cI know your husband hasn\u2019t been home for a while, and you\u2019re stuck with the eggs.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s kind of you,\u201d replied Mrs. Gull a little weakly. \u201cHe\u2019s always doing this. He goes out for food, meets his buddies, and then goes out on a bender with them. I\u2019ll bloody kill him when he gets home!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo need,\u201d said Kyle (for that was his name\u2014conveniently alliterative, kind-sounding (due to its similarity to the word \u201ckind\u201d), and fashionable).<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d said Mrs. G., a little alarmed, but mostly curious.<\/p>\n \u201cWell\u2026 I suppose you\u2019ve heard about the postal workers offering a lawn mowing service?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes\u2026 sort of\u2026\u201d said Mrs. G., lying through her beak.<\/p>\n \u201cThere was a postwoman working in Gligmorton Road the other day. The house owner had aerated the lawn, and the postwoman dropped by at the end of her delivery round to cut the grass. Your husband was there with a couple of his drinking buddies. He was trying to catch worms, but he was also showing off to his buddies by playing chicken with the woman and her lawnmower.\u201d<\/p>\n Mrs. Gull signalled for Kyle to stop. \u201cYou don\u2019t happen to know if she\u2019s the postwoman who delivers to the houses down by the sea wall, do you?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cActually yes, I think she is,\u201d replied Kyle. Why?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cHe got her in trouble that morning for not delivering mail. He scared her off by repeatedly swooping down on her.\u201d<\/p>\n Kyle grinned. \u201cThen I guess she got her revenge.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t mean to say\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYep. She mowed him down. Feathers and flesh everywhere.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh my\u2026\u201d said Mrs. Gull, shocked. \u201cDid he suffer?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt wasn\u2019t instant, if that\u2019s what you mean,\u201d replied Kyle gently.<\/p>\n \u201cY-e-e-e-s-s-s! That immature, arrogant, red-necked\u2026 gull finally got his!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot the reaction I expected,\u201d said Kyle, \u201cbut I\u2019m okay with that.\u201d<\/p>\n He paused.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not sure if I should tell you this or not, but when the postie was finished cutting the grass, I checked out Mr. Gull\u2019s remains.\u201d<\/p>\n He smiled. \u201cTasted a bit like chicken.\u201d<\/p>\n He paused to reconsider. \u201cActually, he tasted more like chicken curry.\u201d<\/p>\n Mrs. Gull looked Kyle up and down, wondering if common gulls and kittiwakes could \u201cget along\u201d.<\/p>\n \u201cSo you have a bit of my husband in you, eh?\u201d \u201cYep,\u201d replied Kyle, sensing a score.<\/p>\n \u201cSo he\u2019s kind of here, partly in body and partly in spirit,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n She paused.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat are your thoughts on step-fatherhood?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAll for it. Can\u2019t have gulls growing up with no father figure.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAre you a drinker or a gambler or a womanizer?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, no, and strictly a window-shopper.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWould you be okay depositing the remains of Mr. Gull\u2019s remains on the shelf over there when the time comes?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll do my best.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhen can you move in?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m here now, aren\u2019t I? What else do I need?\u201d<\/p>\n And so Kyle moved in and helped Mrs. G. raise her eggs. But for evermore, the ghost of Mr. Gull made his presence felt in the cosy little drum.<\/p>\n And whenever Mrs. G smelled curry, she swore that she could hear her late husband cursing her for shacking up with a kittiwake.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" A few weeks ago I wrote a piece that was inspired by a news report that a gull had been rescued from a discarded tray of curry. A few weeks prior, I\u2019d written something that was inspired by reports that the Finnish Postal Service was offering a lawn mowing service. The other day, I spotted a report about a mail… Read more »<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1253,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[181,487],"tags":[95,127,126],"class_list":["post-356","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fake","category-stories","tag-lawn-mowing","tag-postal-workers","tag-scary-seagulls"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/reggothard.com\/kelvin\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/356","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/reggothard.com\/kelvin\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/reggothard.com\/kelvin\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/reggothard.com\/kelvin\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/reggothard.com\/kelvin\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=356"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/reggothard.com\/kelvin\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/356\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/reggothard.com\/kelvin\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1253"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/reggothard.com\/kelvin\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=356"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/reggothard.com\/kelvin\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=356"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/reggothard.com\/kelvin\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=356"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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