It's first thing in the morning. I stagger out into the kitchen, still bleary-eyed. My eyes are drawn to the window & the garden. On the trellis he stands. His great yellow webbed feet holding precariously onto the inch of wood. He sees me & instantly starts reprimanding me.
Who is this? Our friendly, or not so friendly, lesser black-backed gull.
Since we got the new bird table, we've been putting our food scraps on it rather than the stoop. Unfortunately for him, there isn't sufficient space for him to get on the table without hitting his head on its roof. There remains on the table a little of the venison & redcurrants we had yesterday for dinner. He's now feeling frustrated at not being able to reach it. Whenever he sees me these days, he tells me off. Occasionally I yield & put something on the stoop especially for him but not today.
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