Tuesday, May 21, 2013

The Birds

"Close the  car door! What are you thinking??! Close the damn door!"

These were things my manly husband was screaming shrilly at me. I could only stand there and laugh, tears rolling down my cheeks, my abs hurting. That is, until I turned around and realized that maybe Jason did have a reason to be frightened. I was alone on the outside of the car, having closed the door at some point in my doubled-over-laughing stage (and I'm 99% sure I heard the click of the door locking). With them

We had gone to the beach for a little get away. This particular evening, we had just had dinner and were cruising around, just seeing the sites. We came across a parking lot that led to a dock for boat drops. I saw a few seagulls just flying around and I had the bright idea.

I'm going to feed them my leftovers! 

Jason tried to put the kibosh on this idea right away. But, I tend to not listen to him. In my head, things sound like fun and they. must. be. done. 

As I was preoccupied with getting out of the car and reaching into the backseat to get my to-go box, I didn't notice what Jason was seeing. The few seagulls had multiplied into MANY. What the hell? Are they part rabbit? The MANY seagulls had gathered behind me as I was still facing the car. They were waiting expectantly for whatever I had in the magical box. This is why Jason was screaming (shrilly) for me to close the car door. He was scared that the mass of birds would fly into the car to see if there was more grub to be had. 

All that was running through my head at this time was "oh shit. If I open this box, a scene from Hitchcock's The Birds is going to be re-enacted right here, right now. I don't wanna be Tippi Hedren!"

But, I wanted to feed the birds. Part of my tiny brain was screaming, "that still sounds like fun. Do it." So, I slowly opened the box, keeping my eyes firmly locked on the gull closest to me, staring into those beady black eyes, mentally telling him not to make any sudden moves. 

I gently pulled a piece of flounder from my box. I peed a little when all the gulls cocked their heads and inched forward. With a girly scream (I'm pretty sure it came from me and not from The Hubster safely locked in the car), I flung the fish as far away from me as I could. Thankfully, it worked. The gaggle of gulls immediately went into a frenzy to get the small piece of food I had tossed. 

Being braver, I threw more food in the fray (still throwing it as far away as possible), getting a kick out of watching the birds fighting over the meal. Jason, who still was refusing to get out of the car, cracked the window a little, imploring me to get back in the car. 

"Don't you think you've fed them enough? Why don't you get back in the car while they're distracted?"

With a sigh, I concurred that maybe it was wisest to stop while I was ahead. Safely back in the car, I dissolved into giggles again as I replayed in my head - and then out loud, imitating Jason - his frantic cries, demanding that I shut the damn car door . 

Good times.  


  1. Stereo types of seagulls exist for a reason.

  2. WTF? You tell a crazy story and don't share it? I just found this today when I started a new reader. It's funny, because I was just telling the missus about a few seagull encounters on the weekend. I'm glad yours didn't end with you throwing one in a dumpster while people yelled at you.

    1. But, I did share it... At least on Facebook. I can't remember if I shared it on Google+, but I think I did. Silly boy! I'm also very glad this story didn't end with me throwing a bird into the dumpster while people yelled at me. Dare I ask?

    2. Probably better if you don't. Funny as hell, but criminally implicating.