Seagulls. Pelicans. Puffins. Albatrosses. All annoy the shit out of me. Whenever I see a seabird picking over someone’s leftover fries, either on the boardwalk or in the parking lot of a clam chowder joint, I want to claw my eyes out.
I should make it clear that I love animals. Depending on how you look at them, seabirds are unusual, alien creatures. Birds are nearest to our Jurassic ancestors with their scaly talons and sharp beaks. They’re our only chance at manipulating DNA into living dinosaurs–if you’re into that kind of thing.
It’s their attitude that gets me riled up. Have you ever left your funnel cake for a second, only to find a seagull is picking it to pieces? Have you ever tried to take a selfie in front of a sunset, only to have one squawking behind you, desperately looking for attention? They’re just so grabby. And I hate to stereotype an entire class of bird, but I bet you’ve never had a chicken steal your last nugget at the beach. Chickens wouldn’t do that, and not because they’re against cannibalism. They’re all for it. It’s a matter of common courtesy.
Seabirds are special in that they literally give no fucks. While normally I would admire that kind of attitude, in a seabird it’s uniquely revolting to me. Put a leather jacket on and back off, seabird, then maybe we’ll talk.
All this talk about seabirds reminds me of a song my good friend* Jason Schwartzman introduced me to. It’s a song I think we can all appreciate, a song about seabirds flying home, wherever that may be.
*We’re not really friends in the sense that we’ve ever met or anything.