Dating : Gus

MY NAME IS GUS and I am a white seagull. Actually, I am not completely white — I have specs of gray and black mixed in with my fluffy powder snow feathers.

Seagulls are not incredibly respected birds for some unknown reason. I have heard folks at the beach call me a “shit bird” and a “rat with wings” and many other unflattering things. But I am not a rat, I am a bird. And I don’t relieve myself any more than your typical flying creature.

I am not sure why I am criticized by the beachgoers and tourists. My feathers are rather smooth, and I keep myself as clean as a whistle. My beak is yellow and straight and true, and my eyes are pearly white, with an Onyx black center.

I clean the beach and pick up the trash and do not ask for anything in return for my services. When some of you come to visit my beach, you dump your stuff and drop your food and turn the place into one big garbage can. The music you play is so loud and annoying that my sensitive seagull hears simply cannot tolerate it. Perhaps you might consider playing a soothing Bach symphony on your little black Tootsie Roll-looking speaker thingamabob the next time you visit my beach?

I am glad to see that all of you are having a good time frolicking on the sand and splashing in the water and sculpting sandcastles, but could I ask that you please pick up after yourselves when you go home for the evening? My seagull buddy Earl got his scrawny head stuck in one of your plastic six-pack rings last week. You should have seen old Earl, flapping his tired wings every which way, with the occasional feather shooting from his body as if a cherry bomb had exploded in his stomach. For the big finale, Earl torpedoed his way straight down, down, down into the water, splashing against the choppy surface with a giant THUD!

Myself and a few of the other gulls from Balboa pier helped poor old Earl wiggle his featherless neck out of that liquor store deathtrap. But next time, Earl may not be so lucky.

So be cool, everybody. Feel free to enjoy the sun and sand and sea. But just remember that this is our beach, and when we fly high above you we can see every move that you make from 200 feet in the air. We’ve got mighty fine aim, too.

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