There's a seagull sat on the balcony railing right outside of my kitchen window. I can tell that it's still quite young because of the remnants of downy grey feathers on the crown of its head. It keeps staring at me, and it hasn't moved for about an hour and a half. I hope it's webbed feet aren't frozen to the railing or anything (we're having a "cold snap" in Cornwall right now).
I wonder if it's going to try and eat one of the wetsuit boots that're hanging up to dry next to it?
Made me think of these images that I shot a few years back in Santa Cruz, CA - a city with a pretty right-on red commie majority city council that tried to impeach George Doubleya for going to war illegally. Rad, a city trying to impeach a President. There's a good right hander that breaks off the harbour breakwall in the top image when big swells wrap into the bay, with some long running antagonism between the local surfers and the Harbour Patrol who try to arrest them for breaking a local by-law.
But back to seagulls.
A.k.a. skyrats, I quite like them and reckon they're pretty regal birds despite their penchant for stealing chips from tourists in the summer, waking me up every morning before my alarm goes off, trying to steal the days catch whenever I go fishing and crapping on my wetsuit when it's drying on the washing line.
They're the soundtrack of a life lived on the coast.
And how amazing would it be to live in a lighthouse? Apart from getting furniture to fit I guess.