I encountered this young seagull up in Dundee. She decided to stand for a while on the bonnet of my car whilst I fiddled about with the settings of the car’s music player. Eventually, we struck up a kind of conversation. I’m not fluent in seagull, but I tried. A nod and a wink, etc. Through a glass darkly.
I suggested that this part of Dundee, Asda just off the Kingsway, wasn’t the best place to settle. OK, there’s a Greggs and a nearby Costa but it’s all a bit basic. I won’t say tacky but you know what I mean.
“There will be titbits and messy crumbs and wrappers to explore, but ... you’re not so far away from a better, perhaps more challenging life. The coast’s nearby, as I’m sure you know. If you can, head south across the city to the V&A, don’t be tempted by the ice cream vans and ignorant visitors with their chips and M&S meal deals, although half a macaroni cheese pie stolen from the grasp of a security guard on a smoke break might just work for you. But best to ignore these treasures. Follow the coast to Broughty Ferry or head straight up to Arbroath. There are the relics of a fishing industry up there, though pickings will be slim. The silver darlings moved on. In fact, they’re almost extinct now.”
“Better still, follow the coast to the south, round Fife Ness. I’m not sure what your range is, but stop at the Toasty Van by St Andrews’ harbour for a snack break and you could be in Crail by the early evening. Have a kip up on a roof there somewhere. Then look across and you’ll find the May Island. She sparkles like a cold diamond on the Forth and humans don’t really go there. Maybe a few twitchers and loose Americans in the summer months. Boat trippers with field glasses. It might be a bit Mad Max out there, but you’ll be with a good crowd. You’ll need to pick up a few skills; survival in a hostile environment (by human standards), eat some shit, but there will be crabs, whelks and mussels. Seals, fish maybe? A mate? Not any good to me, but ... I’m not a seagull.”
“Anyway, it’s worth a pop. Nothing against Dundee, but you’re wild and free and these old grey Scottish cities can break a person real quick, or a seagull.”
The bird didn’t say too much, but I had a strong sense of what the tone of her reply might be before it finally arrived. She stamped around on the bonnet. The metal was warm with the sun and an hour of plugging along on the motorway. The young don’t really care for advice, however well meant. I’ve seen a few things by now, lived about a dozen gull lives ... not that I’m counting.
“What the fuck do you know, you big soft prick? Sitting in a metal box fiddling with buttons. You don’t have a clue what it’s like to be out here, alone, fending for yourself. Rawk!”
“Anyway, despite my animal feelings, thanks for the advice. I might check it out, but I’ve got a date at the Burger King by Tesco. Some protein to be had there, so they say, and as you know there’s always a bit of fresh roadkill on the Kingsway or A90. I just have to watch out for those twats in their sunglasses and Teslas, oh, and the electric scooter boys.”
“Yeah, my mum told me a fairy story about the May Island. Guess I was an egg then. Don’t know if she ever saw the place for real. Perhaps I’ll head there some day. By the way, you forgot to thank me for not shitting on your windscreen. Rawk! Rawk! Now get on with your own stupid business.”
I turned the key, the car’s engine lit up and away flew the seagull.
I’ll never know if she made it to the May Island, but I’d like to think she did.
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