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2004-08-17 Tuesday
There are many gulls floating in the high tide water of the harbor below the second floor windows of The George today. The majority of them are chicks, still wearing their camouflage grey brown feathers. Many chicks seem larger than the few bright white, silver wing-tipped, adults among them. Perhaps it is just an optical illusion.
The adult gulls are so sleek and white their beautiful aerodynamic shapes seem painted instead of feathered.
Much of the time the gulls sit quietly floating in the water or soaring motionless on the sea wind or rotating their posted lookouts on top of the pier lamps. Now and then they burst into a squawking multi-sided conversation, probably about an approaching fishing boat or the menu for the next snack. Or perhaps just territory matters, about which one owns a patch of the wavy waters of the harbor. Their remarks are both serious and humorous. Perhaps they are not talking but laughing. But totally cryptic.
On the bus going back to Bempton Crescent, two grey haired men chatted warmly, loudly to a third sitting across the aisle and behind them a row. There was much laughter and good nature about their conversation. Old chums perhaps, neighbors or maybe just sometimes bus mates.
They carried on for much of the bus trip, from town center to the rambling scrambled streets of the suburbs of Bridlington, East Yorkshire, UK.
Perhaps they were speaking English. There was no way to tell. It was completely cryptic.
If they could repeat everything two or three times, a little study might bring the meaning home to a foreigner. Perhaps it is the same with the gulls.
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Labels: Bempton Crescent, gulls, The George
