The Birds

When I first moved to the south coast from the Midlands, I used to love the sound of seagulls. When I lay in bed in the morning during those first rosy months I’d smile as I heard them, an audible reminder that even if I couldn’t see the sea I was no longer landlocked. On my way to work in the mornings I’d see them in numbers stamping up and down on the dewy grass to fool worms into surfacing and it would make me chuckle because they looked as though they were dancing at a seagull rave.

How quickly things can change.

Now when I hear a squawk from one of those creatures it makes me want to go on a full-on gullicidal rampage. I want silence their foul beaks once and for all. It isn’t so bad in winter because the windows are closed and they’re harder to hear but in the warmer months it can get almost unbearable. Summer means lighter mornings and seagulls nesting on the rooftops, tending to a new generation of squawking monstrosities. The summer light and protective nature of the gull parents causes periods of incessant screeching, generally at some ungodly hour of the morning I only usually see when I’m out for the night. Once the shrieking has woken me up, getting back to sleep amidst the cacophony can prove almost impossible. If there is an afterlife I’m going to track down whoever came up with the idea for ear plugs and shake their hand.

As well as their continuous screaming, seagulls are also becoming increasingly aggressive, so much so that I’m under the impression that they’re building up for a war of supremacy with us humans. One of my friends was up on his roof for some reason the other day and was dive bombed by the bloody things. Another friend recently came back after a night out to find that he’d been the victim of a seagull home invasion. This friend said that he, ‘got home to find a seagull in the living room and bird shit everywhere. It took a scrape out of my arm as I chucked it out by its legs.’ I’m pretty sure the seagull hadn’t simply wandered accidentally into his flat, I think it was bloody squatting. I imagine it had also been helping itself to his drinks cabinet and food cupboards. Shame it didn’t know how to use the toilet.

And the mad thing is we protect this vermin.

What with the shrieking, aggression, squatting, bin bag attacking and general winged thuggery I think it’s about time the government repealed the protection of these sky rats so that we can embark on a pre-emptive cull and hopefully avoid the imminent war.

I think that Hitchcock was right and they’re are out to get us. In his film The Birds it’s the seagulls who attack first; coincidence? I think not. I reckon that The Birds is a warning; Hitchcock saw this day coming and knew that the seagulls would be the generals of the bird army.

My friend, Alex came up with a perfect description of their squawks. He said that, ‘it sounds like they’re laughing at you.’ I don’t think I could have described it better myself. They’re laughing because they’re taunting us, they know that their time is coming. Seagulls aren’t our friends, they are our nemesis. The next time one shits on you don’t pass it off as a random act of airborne crapping, know this: it was aiming for you because it hates you and wants your home, your food and your position in the food chain.

Beware the gulls