Missing Seagulls

Do you want to know how I know it's been too long since I've lived near the ocean?

I miss seagulls.

Seagulls.

They used to be the bane of my existence.  A nuisance.  An all-around pain-in-the-butt way to detract from a gorgeous day spent at the beach.

I used to laugh at people who thought seagulls were pretty.

"You know they're scavengers, right?" I'd ask scoffingly.  "They're disgusting.  They're annoying.  They have no pride--they steal food right out of your hand!"

And yet, when I was at the beach for a church youth group beach day on Saturday, I--Bethany Elise-- took pictures of seagulls.

There is something about them, though, if you wash away all memories of being pooped on from above, or the pathetic "Caw" as they swirl around looking for their next victim holding a sandwich.

Something pretty.

Something forlorn.

A lost pride.

I feel for seagulls.

A bird with such beautiful markings should be reserved for something majestic.

And yet, they roam the sands looking for left-over bits, contenting themselves with scavenging.

And I am the ridiculous person at the beach that little me would laugh at.  I think seagulls are pretty.

Seagulls on the prairie
always seem ridiculous to me
Why confine themselves to my left over french fries
When they can sail the winds above the sea.

Have they like humans forgot their pride?
They give up their seagullity for an easy ride

They're now common crows
with a forgotten past.
The sound of the sea
is myth at last.

--Jessica Callele