Big Bird and BoB


There is a distinct, understated magic in the daily rituals I share with the wild things right outside my window. For three years now, a female herring gull has made my sill her reliable stopover, always arriving with fledglings in tow—this spring bringing a record total of five across two broods.

​Right now, one of her latest fledglings is perched on my planter wall. From where I’m sitting, all I can see is a single, feathered head bobbing with near-perfect timing. Up! Down! Up! Down! It looks like a little aerobic workout, or his mother—just out of sight—conducting stealth drills: Hide! Peep! Hide! Peep! Naturally, I’ve named him BoB.

​Science explains their precise internal clocks through instinct and survival, but I prefer setting the logic aside just to enjoy the show. Without interfering in their wild lives, I find immense joy in being a tiny, welcoming stop on their daily rounds—even if they're mostly just trying to hustle me for biscuits.

​As for Flop,  and how he got his name? I’m going to guess the same as BoB! Earned his name during his very first appearance, In the window, on the sofa, and, flop! Down like a sack of coal afterwhich he never left avoiding all attempts at repatriation with his owner, never seen him in my life tet hes never been out of it on two years, thedes another stay. Another story for later..


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