Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Tribute to the Christmas Gulls

I don't wanna confuse you on Christmas Eve, but there is no 'Santa'. His real name was Saint Nicholas and he was wearing a bishop's hat instead of a garden goblin's cap. The Christmas Gulls don't wear hats at all, but it's basically their job to throw all the junk down the chimneys. At first it was supposed to be the Easter Bunnie's job, but as they can't fly, they had to yield to the Christmas Gulls.

Whatsoever, what are you guys doing with all the junk? I mean, you get that junk every year and as far as I've seen, the closets and cupboards are full. Living with humans is like residing on a garbage dump.

Sunday, November 27, 2011

About the Necessity of Pedicure

If you're a seagull and you read this, just cast an eye at your feet and ask yourself: "Are my claws too long?" A wild seagull's claws are never long. During take-offs, landings and running on rocks (or other kinds of rough materials) they're being blunted and kept short. We domesticated gulls can afford being lazy, whereas in wildlife you fight for survival all the time, so claws cannot grow long.

Too long claws are no good:
  1. You stumble if they hook one another.
  2. You might eventually hurt your eyes while scratching your head (don't know -- just my personal concern).
  3. Too long claws tend to turn outside, while you're standing on your feet. Any orthopedist will tell you, this isn't healthy for your bones.
My feet at November 21: Long claws tend to turn outside!

Seagulls don't use their claws to cling, like those birds who sit on trees. Gulls cannot cling -- we just stand, like dogs, ducks and humans. If you see a gull on a lantern, or something: that individual is just standing up there. Long gull-claws are useless, annoying and potentially dangerous! So you gotta keep 'em short.

November 27: This is way too long--were're the pincers?!

A wild gull's feet in stony environment: Claws don't grow so very long there.

This is how to cut the claws of a seagull:
Humans use various kinds of pincers, to shorten their claws. So you take something like that. Mind that your claws might turn around while the pincers' jaws close forcefully! So you close them softly, let the claw find its most stable position between the jaws.... and then you press. You better let your human do it, for this isn't easily done with a beak....
Personally I have my claws blunted with a little file after that -- I don't wanna hurt myself with sharp edges, that's why we do it. Humans have lots of vanity, fooling around with those ridiculous nail files. Well, it can't harm if you're a bit neat too....

Now they're cut off. It isn't really fun, but it had to be.

Now let's discuss how to improve the skin condition of your feet. Even humans love to walk in the mud, because it's good for their feet. We gulls do it a lot in the wild, but if we have to live in houses as disabled gulls, it's hardly possible. In this case you might wanna try human hand cream, if the skin of your webbed feet gets too dry.

As you see here, my feet tend to be a little dry at times.

Of course you choose a cream without perfume and other unnecessary chemical stuff. There are special creams for humans with delicate hands on the market, so you better use those. Try it once and see, whether an allergic reaction will occur: if this is the case you try out another cream. Hand cream should be rubbed in by your human pet -- you can actually train your human to rub in the cream. Finally it (the human) should add a bit more cream on top of your feet (while you're standing upright), just this time don't have it rubbed in.

Now you're done and your feet look neat.

This looks very much better. The feet look a little reddish,
since the massage encouraged the blood circulation, but that's okay.
Claws have regular length now: I'm not an eagle--just a normal herring gull.

Our YouTube films on this issue:

The next morning, after having changed the bird sand:

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Who's Interfering With Whose Nature?

My stepsister Liza had been entirely different from me: big, healthy, strong and independent. I've never seen her, but ma says, Liza was like, "Okay, drop the food there and beat it." Often she walked from the kitchen to the bathroom and hoped into the shower basin, to take a bath. Then she went back to the kitchen, hoped on a chair, then on the table, to finally occupy her window board again. My mother sometimes met her in the corridor, like accidentally bumping into a brief neighbor. That pretty much was it in an oyster shell.*

One day Liza flew for a spin in the kitchen, so ma decided it was time to practice flying in the yard. Her idea was to also feed the herring gull there, so Liza would learn where to find support in future. However, this plan to release her slowly into wildlife, utterly failed. Liza stepped out on the windowsill, spread her wings and flew away over the roofs, leaving her human nurse in a state of shock: "Aaaah, my baby's gonna starve!"

Me, in the miserable condition how I was foisted on my adopter

In the nearby harbor people interfered in the nature of the town's history, demolishing old sheds from the 19th century -- to build something more profitable. Ma was politically very much against it. However, this was exactly the area where a friend and his girlfriend found me. He was a skilled zookeeper and must have known what to do. They say they had watched me quite some time and I obviously had no parents. Had my natural parents been breeding on one of those sheds?

Whatever, after something must have interfered in the nature of my family life, and actually destroyed my natural herring gull nursery, those friends downright interfered with natural death. I already looked like a feathered skeleton -- almost starved and fatally sick. And this was right on clue to interfere in the nature of my ma's motherly worries: "Hey, we found your Liza!" It took my mother several days to realize, "No, this cannot be Liza!" Got it? They downright tricked her, to have her nursing me. They interfered in her human nature, by foisting her on another herring gull baby! That day nobody knew, she would end up being my mother for lifetime, due to the fact I would never learn to fly. My injury healed, but my right wing always remained stiff.

Me, interfering with my mom's backpack, attacking virtual sandworm

So in a way I am interfering in the nature of the one female homo sapiens sapiens who adopted me. Today it is big love. Although, it isn't my fault, but I really interfere with human species.

* Ma met Liza in the rush hour of a main shopping street. There really was no worse place in the city. Liza couldn't decide whether to be trampled down by the rushing human feet on the sidewalk, or killed in the heavy traffic. Liza was uninterruptedly fleeing from the street to the sidewalk and from the sidewalk to the street &ct/&ct.... -- my mother says it was an impossible situation, so she finally took Liza home. About two weeks later Liza began to fly. Somewhere up on a roof above the terrible traffic-hell she probably must have been relatively safe. But maybe the housekeeper didn't want her nursery to be placed there? Today my mother says, Liza was so strong, she probably got by. Let's assume she did. She might be one of those bold gulls on YouTube, that knock at peoples windows, to be fed -- interfering with their human nature again and again. Isn't nature full of wonderful irony?

Sunday, October 30, 2011

What Is Appropriate Adoption?

That other Sunday, we came to the church yard, my mom opened the 'dog-sedan-chair' to let me play on the lawn before service. A few women, also going to church, asked fool questions and ma explained I was an orphan and still disabled. While finally walking ahead towards the church, the nosiest of those women said to her stuffy pals, "But it shouldn't be, it's not okay." Ma didn't respond to that, but inside she was boiling lava for sure....

Gulls walk always upright -- humans sometimes don't.

After the service she opened my box again -- I felt like straightening my feathers and a bunch of nice churchgoers found it cute. Suddenly came an elderly 'Miss Marple' and asked fool questions. Her last question was, "But aren't these birds used to water?" Ma told her, I was afraid of water."* A man added, "She brought that gull up, it isn't used to the sea." Miss Marple silenced the friendly helper right away: "Don't you interfere!"
Suddenly I saw lightnings in ma's eyes and she told Miss Marple to "please let us alone". But Miss Marple insisted on obtruding more questions, thus ma's tone turned a little unfriendlier. Now Miss Marple made an awful fuss, insisting on being an animal as well and having feelings and all this on a church yard!**

Me and my adopter 17 years ago -- inappropriate mother-child relationship?

These women were actually killing me by judging: "A gull should never be a pet." In their eyes it is proper to catch and breed parrots, for people are used to that.*** Whereas the adoption of an orphaned and disabled herring gull confuses their ideology. Our mother-child relationship is "inappropriate". I don't have a right to exist. To them it would be better, my veterinarian had put me to death 17 years ago. Because my existence messes up their ideas of world and nature.

Isn't that selfish and just plain malicious?

Foot Notes:

* I am okay with the tub now, but at first I even didn't wanna go there. Frankly, the sea scares me a lot, because of the waves. Once we were at the sea, my mother thought I would have a lot of fun, but in fact I found it scary. She's still telling her friends laughing: "The first wave almost reached her feet and my gull looked puzzled. The second wave almost touched them and she looked down most appalled. The tip of the third wave touched her feet gently and she spread her wings and ran towards the dry sand."

** It was a church lawn and I loved it very much. By the way, ma had told Miss Marple this was my day and she (Miss Marple) was about to spoil my and mom's Sunday (St. Francis service for animals and humans). Which she did -- she really was a drag! By the way, she wasn't there with an animal.

*** Buying children, that had been caught somewhere, or taken away from their real parents, is strange parenthood. Although, if the relationship turns out to be good, it's alright. In my case it was real adoption, for I was an orphan. And adoption is absolutely normal in nature. Even human babies have been adopted by monkeys or wolves. My mother is a real mother. She didn't buy me, she didn't catch me -- I was terribly sick, had no parents and she adopted me. And that's natural -- period.

Sunday, October 16, 2011

I Am a Churchgoer

Guess what? I was in church, the Sunday after St. Francis, and met a bunch of Lutheran dogs. We are Catholic of course, but the dogs didn't target me at all. The sermon was on lion and lamb, peacefully together. So were the dogs and me, which really is a happy exegesis.

The girl likes seagulls, so I have to protect her privacy--Notice the dog under a chair

Yet, the dogs didn't get on the sanctuary stairs, where the press wanted to shoot a photo of me and the pastor! I'm sorry to admit to haven't got those photos -- don't even know which paper it was. At least I have photos with dogs and a girl.

There were at least a dozen dogs--here you just don't see them all

On St. Francis day I had been blessed with water and the pastor asked me, "Some more water?" He likes non-human people, as did St. Francis, and speaks to birds. The invitation to St. Francis day started with crying herring gulls on YouTube. Now, was this an invitation by God addressed to me?? According to the sermon I heard last Sunday, he loves the bird people as well.

Wednesday, October 12, 2011

I Fly to the Ball

In my usual dress of course................

It's just that I hope to get some dainty New England oysters at the very famous WILLOW MANOR BALL 2011. Therefore no politics today. ;)>

Thursday, October 6, 2011

This Is Outraging!

This is really outraging, so at first I have to give vent to my anger....

Miss G's battle cry -- Be Careful!
Don't turn the volume up to the maximum!

The gridlockers keep still gridlocking, but blame Obama for campaigning against gridlock.... It's pretty much the same with oysters: First you crack the shell, then you can eat the oyster. You wouldn't eat the oyster with shell, would you?

Your political bird-correspondent....
Miss G.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Drop the Oyster!

How do herring gulls crack oysters and other tough shell-stuff — without any tool? We have a pretty neat way to get the job done — get it here....

Honestly our race's nutrition depends pretty much on human economy these days and civilization doesn't make us gulls smarter. Yet, forgetting our own old techniques (which are very much older than human civilization!) would be suicide. For human civilization has ups and downs. Whenever it's going down, we have to rely on our Stone Age techniques.

Crack shell-stuff: Forget those tools, you won't need 'em....

So, this is how we crack oysters, without any tool: You fly high up in the air and drop the shell-thing over a rock, street or sidewalk. That's how we gulls get the job done.

Your political bird-correspondent....
Miss G.

Saturday, September 24, 2011


Many birds are great fans of the New York Seagulls, but as soon as the New Yorkers loose, they hate the Seagulls and prefer the Boston Herring Kickers.
§%#&ยต$, that's wrong!

Beakball was always one of my wildest obsessions!

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Got to Be Proper Before I Start Blogging....

Hello world, bird people as human people! This is a great moment in the North Eastern Seagull Colony's history: Our media project worldwide. You know, we have to get into politics in these obviously tough times. But before I go online, I have to look decently. So lets have a bath. Never seen a herring gull in a tub? Well, you might have heard, our race is sort of synanthropic species. So don't be too confused.

Your political correspondent as bathing queen

If you object, this obviously is my swimming pool, you're right --- of course not because of the tub's size, it's because of pretty me. Personally, I feel fine with it. You can swim around like in a harbor basin, except that it's safer and much more comfortable. But how long will we birds have this synanthropic luxury? That's what this new media project's all about...

Never seen a bathing canary?? Don't worry, the water was fairly well-tempered.

Stay tuned, come round 'n read me!
Your bathing queen and political correspondent....
Miss G.