Frosty Butt Feathers
Brrr, it’s been cold up here in the Great White North the last few days, there was even SNOW on central Ontario pumpkins recently! I’m a tough middle-aged bird so I don’t migrate south like some softies do, instead scrounging out a yearly winter existence through stealth and luck. Living amongst humans has its benefits, even in the backwoods of Ontario, there’s always somebody walking around with fries, bread, chips or other goodies. Ya just gotta know where to hang out at the right time. But alas, the weather has swung back to sunshine and relatively warm temps so woohoo, easy livin’ for a little while longer!
I hang out near a particular house on a lake and l must say that I’m always greatly entertained by the lady occupant, she’s always doing something worth squawking about.
The lady recently brought her houseplants in for the season and it seems a new plantstand and plants tried to mount a revolt. The lady was attempting to water said plants the other day and the plants thought hey, let’s launch ourselves. And they did! The plantstand tilted and one large pothos plant broke out first, bouncing off the lady’s head quite emphatically and landing on her nice cream coloured rug, dumping a nice load of black soil… oh my, it was quite a sight (she didn’t see me, but I was perched on a nearby limb laughing my beak off).
There’s must have been a temporary hiccup with the lady because after she cleaned up all the soil and lost leaves, I watched the lady move to the kitchen and proceed to pour a good dollop of 18% cream onto her cereal. HEE HEE HEE, cream, oh my, that’s pretty rich cereal!
People are funny.
As I fly around these parts I keep hearing about a big election going on way down south. Politics isn’t my thing, birds don’t care about such silly human stuff. Our politics is food: where’s the food, who has the food, how can I get the food, and how do I get to the food first! I vote for fries, fries for everybirdie (but more for me of course!).
As the temps have fallen around these parts, I am now out of knickers to steal from clotheslines. This is not right, I need a new wardrobe, and I’m in the market for a matching set of bright purple knickers and tank top. If anyone knows where I can find these items, please leave comment on The Roost! A nice pair of hot pink legwarmers would be awesome too… and ski goggles… and a toque!
Now before I sign off, I must tell y’all about 5 new heroes of mine. There are 5 saucy African Greys who reside at Lincolnshire Wildlife Centre in London England. The media has labelled them ‘foul-mouthed’, but hey, that should read ‘foul beaked’! My colleague Morty (The Roost’s Beneath the Cage Grate author) has written a letter to (who I’ve now labelled) The Fab Five to find out how they are coping. So, what did The Fab Five do you ask? Well, it seems they decided to spice things up by encouraging one another to swear! HAHAHAHAHA!!!!
Apparently, early on in their new hitch at Lincolnshire this past August The Fab Five – Billy, Eric, Tyson, Jade and Elsie, revealed a penchant for squawking a blue streak, using some very colourful language. The Fab Five egged on one another, feeding off of one another’s sauciness. Hee hee hee, apparently one of The Fab Five loudly exclaimed ‘f– off’ in the presence of a human onlooker… oh dear, chuckle chuckle. To see a video of The Fab Five, go to:
Instead of allowing The Fab Five to enjoy their new-found linguistic fun, the Centre separated The Fab Five, spoiling their fun and preventing them from ‘setting one another off’. That’s not fair. I say FREE THE FAB FIVE! Maybe I need to start a GoFundMe page to get The Fab Five reunited in their own aviary, equipped with their own YouTube Channel (chuckle squawk chuckle). Who will join me in demanding freedom for The Fab Five??? Us birdies must stick together!
Well, that’s it for now, I have to go find some lunch. A seagull’s life is always a challenge don’t ya know, we never know when or from where our next fries are coming from!
Until next time, keep your beak up. Life is weird, wonderful and funny – squawk at it whenever possible!
Salty the Seagull
One with the Lichen… or, the Summer I Damn Near Melted
I swear this has been the most bizarre 9 months in all my years gliding and surfing the breeze. First there are no humans out and about and not a french-fry to be snatched. Then there are a few more humans out, and now they’re wearing something weird on their face and discarding these face coverings everywhere, all over my precious parking lots, grasslands and forests. There’s still a drought on scraps for me to scoop up, but there’s more people trash everywhere. Funny how some humans call us seagulls and our brethren the pigeon a scourge on the landscape, yet it’s seemingly okay for people to scatter garbage about… yeesh.
I’ve had fun snatching knickers from clotheslines this summer – seems with more time at home, some humans are doing A LOT more laundry. I scored some checkered knickers that have a flap in the front so I decided that I’d wear them over my head like a cape: SUPERGULL!
My buddy Morty has his hands full with his errant bot Alexa, I think I’ll fly down to check this drama out, maybe I can climb in a box and get shipped to an exotic land full of french-fries and chips.
And hey, what’s with this thing I hear about monuments being torn down? I’m a bird so I don’t have any political leanings, but geez humans, we birds are always lookin’ for a nice monument to perch on to watch your goings-on! Monuments with hats or horses make for excellent overnight roosts too don’t ya know!
I’ve been spending most of my summer on the wing over and around Georgian Bay and holey moley folks it’s been a hot one. For a few days there in July I thought I was going to melt and become one with the lichen it was so darn hot. And my head feathers, good grief, the humidity gave me a permanent frizzy look. I was thinking of putting some curlers in and getting gussied up and doing a birdie-style Burlesque show, you know, with a feathered boa and all.
Between something called a pandemic and the heat and humidity, I for one will be glad to see the tail feathers of 2020 heading out the door in a few more months! Albeit, that means I’ll have to pack my knickers and head south to warmer climes soon. But that’s okay, I think I’ll head to the land of corn fritters and grits, or maybe further south to the land of jazz, gumbo and jambalaya. Wherever the pickins are plentiful and the skies are warm I’ll be happy.
Until then, I’ll continue scrounging around for french-fries and chips and keeping a keen eye out for new knickers to add to my Burlesque wardrobe.
Catch everybirdie next month!
NO FRIES, NO HUMANS and now, MURDER HORNETS
Alright already, I’m starving! I haven’t seen an errant French fry, flung about by a wasteful human in months. WHERE ARE THE HUMANS? I’m a seagull, so a novel coronavirus means absolutely nothing to me. The fact there are no fries is a big deal!!! I mean, I make my living mooching and scrounging, and believe me, humans are usually reliable for throwing us moochers our share of fries and other treats.
So it’s been a lonely, hungry Spring for us seagulls. Just yesterday I overheard a gaggle of honkers protesting the fact that they are actually having to forage for food instead of relying on human handouts. It’s wrong, so, so wrong. Foraging is for baby birds and warthogs, I’m a seagull, I don’t do foraging! Takeout food parking lots are pretty much empty. Humans are hoarding toilet paper and hand sanitizer, and they’re scurrying back and forth from grocery stores with HUGE bags of food, but they’re not sharing.
The pigeons are looking like stick birds too, hungry for their daily bread smatterings from human admirers. Every pigeon I try to chat up gives me the stink eye and shoos me away. Seriously dudes, I’m not interested in gettin’ in your feathers, I’m just trying to find out where the food is at! Pigeons are punks anyway.
It’s been a cold Spring here in Central Ontario and the ice has only been off the lakes for a few weeks. I’ve checked out the town, parking lots and even dumps and believe me, not much pickins anywhere. I think I need to move south…
When I first heard of COVID-19 I thought it was CORVID-19, as in 19 crows. I was really worried that those feathered bozos were now some kind of thug bird gang of crows stalking parking lots, trying to kick me off their, er, MY turf. But alas, COVID-19 doesn’t have anything to do with birds at all. It may be something from bats, but the jury’s still out on that too. Either way, it’s causing us seagulls and other feathered beggars to go without, to reassess life in general, and to long for the good ‘ole days when French fries were plentiful, humans were everywhere, and the livin’ was easy.
So, we have a novel coronavirus running rampant among humans, and now, MURDER HORNETS. WTH. All hornets are nasty, evil things (bees are okay… they’re even kinda cute). A cousin over yonder in Washington State wired me a photo he snapped of a Murder Hornet, HOLY CRAP IT WAS HUGE!!!! I mean, these things get up to 2 inches long! OMB, that’s basically a hummingbird with an even meaner, badass attitude. I told my cousin to be careful about where he was flying, and to not snap at or try to eat anything that buzzes and is yellow and black!
Another cousin over in the UK sent videos of sheep playing on a tilt-a-whirl in an empty playground and goats roaming city street… what the heck is happening???? I mean wow, the humans have seemingly surrendered their outside world to farm animals and giant bugs. Is this some kinda weird alternate universe I’ve somehow fallen into? Something has happened and I did NOT get the memo.
Whatever, I’m still starving so I’m heading over to McDonald’s, it’s lunchtime so there just has to be at least one human in the parking lot who will take pity on a skinny seagull in pink knickers.
Until next time, be on the lookout for giant hornets, wayward livestock and humans – they’re out there, somewhere!