The park in front of our building is one of the reasons we bought here. There is a pedestrian walkway on the other side of it and I love people watching from my window seat. All year people play with their dogs in the park and in the summer children romp there. The older folks from the assisted living building across the street have set up games under the trees and often sit on the benches in the good weather. Yes, the park is a wonderful thing. The city workers mow it and water the trees planted there. We get a yard to look at and play on and we don’t have to do a blessed thing.

However, for four days now I have witnessed a terrible thing in the park. A seagull has joined the crows that dig in the grass looking for grubs. A frigging seagull. In our park. I’m shaking my head in disgust. I really don’t like the crows that hang out here, but at least crows are intelligent, social creatures. Seagulls are just disgusting, evil birds who eat and poop and snap at each other. I mean, have you ever seen their interactions at the beach? I know people who love birds. They feed them and put up little houses for them to live in. They spend hours watching them, enjoying their antics. I’ve done it myself. I love watching the little chickadees and other tiny birds that sit in the trees outside my window. I’ve talked to them when they’ve perched on the edge of our fountain and I’ve laughed at their antics when they’ve darted in and out of that fountain. I’ve put up hummingbird feeders and enjoyed the little birdies that visit them. But I don’t know a single person who says they love seagulls and enjoy watching them. Because there’s nothing to love about them. They aren’t cute. They are mean and evil.

And now there’s a seagull in our park, every day. It’s only a matter of time until it is joined by its friends and relatives, well, its relatives because I’m sure none of them have friends. And then they will peck and poop and peck and poop and ruin our little park and sit on our building and poop all over it and we will have to move.

There is a house near an antique store we like to visit. The first time we drove by it I was stunned. There were dozens of seagulls on the roof. It wasn’t near a dump or a fish market, but there they were, so many seagulls, perched on the peak of a white-washed roof (white-washed with acrid, seagull poop). Why they were there, I had no idea, but it was disgusting. I shuddered and stammered that I couldn’t live anywhere near that house. And if, by some weird happenstance, a house of ours became a seagull perch, we would have to sell it. Every time we’ve driven by it, the house is covered in seagulls. Oh, the horror!

And now there is a seagull in our park. Am I the only one who can see where this is going? So for the foreseeable future I am on seagull watch, to see if this miscreant will be joined by others. Unless it has been a different one coming every day to trick us into missing the invasion. Because who can tell one seagull from another? Oh, they are evil bastards but I’m on to them now.

And if you don’t agree with my viewpoint, google seagulls and check out the images. Not one cute seagull, not one.