Another stanza flaps in:
III
The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds.
It was a small part of the pantomime.
And pantomime is not a bad word to describe one event this week. Though it didn’t involve a blackbird: it was a sea gull that forced its way into my attention, into my life. It has to be said that this doesn’t compare to what is being forced into a certain Murdoch family’s attention – oh, and another thing . . . and another. It must be crushing for King Murdoch Lear. Did I hear you say, let’s hope so! Yes, I have to admit this tale of woe for the Murdoch clan makes me feel quite celebratory.
Anyway we should get back to the minor tale I was about to relate. This gull that forced, broke into, invaded by apparently walking or let’s say strutting in to my home. A juvenile gull in its juvenile plumage.
Leah is here for a few days and we had gone out to check out (and buy) a dress for her graduation; a frock she had seen on an earlier exploratory outing. Dress bought we opened the door to be confronted with a dollop of yellow bird pooh, glistening wetly on the floorboards. Uh huh! What’s going on here? There were other signs of disturbance: a small plastic watering can knocked over, some tiny marks of what could be blood (it was red) on Leah’s white laptop. We walked around clapping our hands, peering into the nooks and crannies. I was imagining a trapped panicking bird but there was nothing; no desperate flapping or squawking.
There was a suggestion that I look under my bed – a piece of advice I ignored at first because I was still expecting the panicked bird. So, of course, when I did come to check under the bed and see, in the shadows, the distinct shape of a gull, apparently either dead or contentedly sitting, I was proved wrong (again) and then had to begin to grapple with the problem of how to get it out.
A towel was Leah's kindly thought and my choice of weapon was a garden broom. To be fair I had pictures in my mind of aggressive gulls stabbing with their ferocious beaks – a cornered teenager armed with a knife. After a moment’s reflection we combined forces, me with the broom from one side edging it towards Leah with the towel. Amazingly it was as quiet and docile as we could wish it to be and in fact it looked mighty pleased with itself as she held it in the towel – a triumphant gull.
Since then I’ve tended not to leave the door wide open as it usually is when I’m at home – this is supposed to be summer.