The Brians…
(Herring Gulls at Mousehole, December 2010…)
He was still there,
Expectant,
Indignant, waiting.
Mate skulking in late afternoon haze,
In his shadow.
His thicker neck pure in whiteness,
Eyes piercing the shade
Like jasmine in fresh snow
And I broke a biscuit in full view of his gaze…
He craved to share,
Reticent,
Ambivalent, hesitating.
Mate lurking on cool balcony wall,
In his wake.
His thicker beak curved in sharpness,
Eyes penetrating the awe
Like sights on deadly prey
And he took the offering stealthily and with gall…
She contrived to glare,
Recalcitrant,
Impotent, agitating.
Mate baulking for each tendered crumb,
In her stead.
Her gaping bill forked in prowess,
Eyes positioning the flight,
Like catchers’ on baseball’s curve
And she snaffled the benefaction with expression glum…
Pete Ray
The seagull, affectionately named Brian by me,
wanted a Rich Tea biscuit.
He braved my presence and took the pieces out of my hand.
I threw pieces to the female too and she caught them from the air without even standing nearby first…
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