There were hundreds of them. Well, tens at least. And yes, I mean both the unspecies-fied gulls as well as my photos of them.
Visiting a North Myrtle Beach estuary with a friend back in February, we stumbled upon some folks throwing out stale bread to gulls. Now, feeding gulls seems to me to be unnecessary. And likely undesirable.
In my view, gulls are squirrels of the air: generally annoying. They’re not the gracious and deserving slobs that I feed: They’re the undeserving poor, like Eliza Doolittle’s father. (And if I had any thought that some things were not yet on the internet, searching for and finding this monologue in about 2 seconds flat put that thought to rest.)
Worse, unlike the squirrels which rampage through my backyard one at a time, gulls come in flocks. Hundreds of them. Well, maybe tens.
But it’s hard to look at anything for a long time — OK, even for a few minutes — and fail to find something interesting or beautiful about it. Even flying rodents, chasing stale bread.