The Last Gull Standing

The Last Gull Standing is part three of a three-part series: Three Months on a Gull-Infested Roof. It does not stand-alone.

Part One: Feathered Siege

Part Two: Fluffy Occupation

The Last Gull Standing

22nd July: The false farewell

One of the worst narrative devices is the reveal that it was all just a dream: nothing actually happened. Everyone hates this twist. And yet, that’s exactly what the gulls did to me. Because although there was no sign of them that night or the morning after, the following day, Dewey and Louis were back on the roof with GuardDog Gull and Foraging Gull off in the distance, as if nothing had happened. They’ve been crying on and off all day.

I was not aware that Paldiski was on a gull migration path until I came to share a rooftop with them. This year I am wondering a lot more about who stays and who goes. The migration has not yet happened — there are gulls on the other roofs, not just mine — but I have no idea where they spent the night or why they have come back.

I had made my goodbyes and accepted that they were gone. I was a little bit sad. Now they are still here and I don’t know how I feel.

23rd July: The great divide

The parents have gone from ill-tempered to outright neglect, spending most of the day away.

Dewey ventures to Crow Ledge with Louis following. They know there is something happening over there but have no idea what.

Dewey finds a piece of Gary’s kibble and gives me a look of utter disgust.

They keep wandering to my terrace to beg for food. Dewey and Louis have no fear of me and now it seems they Have Expectations as to my hospitality. They will be sorely disappointed.

25th July: How can I miss you if you won’t go away?

I have the music on full blast to drown out the crying. Dewey and Louis stare at me through the window making that high-pitched keening cry. “We are so very very hungry, please throw up some food for us.”

Yesterday I stepped onto the terrace and felt something soft and squidgy against my bare toes. There’s a piece of sparrow wing in my planter. The babies are on solids and I want no part of it.

26th July: High above the city

My perspective has changed. Instead of looking down at the people on the street, I check the neighboring buildings to make sure there are still gulls on their roofs, not just on mine. Gary caws once from a park tree before flying over. The jackdaws wheel past with a quick glance to see if I’m putting out food. The wagtails scavenge meat crumbs from the ledges.

I’m only six floors up but my world isn’t the same as the one downstairs, not anymore.

27th July: Once more, with feeling

There was no one on the roof this morning when I got up. The wind was blowing and I imagined I could smell autumn. Next door’s roof is also bare. I watched a single adult gull fly over and disappear towards the sea. But I don’t know. I’ve been wrong before.

Today I turned my lights on for the first time since May.

28th July: One is the loneliest number

It’s been pissing it down all afternoon. When the rain finally stopped this evening, I heard a loud thud on the roof. I looked out to see a fully-fledged juvenile on the ledge near the terrace, looking bedraggled. I went outside and he cried at me. It’s Louis, miserable and alone. He gave a few more cries and then gave up. A moment later, just before the sun had fully set, he flew away.

How many times can he leave me?

29th July: Rooftop rave

I dared hope that the gulls had really left this time, but this afternoon, I looked onto the roof and was shocked to see it full of birds.

Seventeen jackdaws and Louis.

Yes, I counted.

He is big enough that the jackdaws clearly don’t see him as prey, although I don’t fancy his chances if they swarmed him. But they sat together peacefully for almost an hour and then the jackdaws flew away.

Louis is still out there, standing on Nestling Tower like he owns the place.

I wonder if his parents know the company he’s keeping.

30th July: Owner of a lonely heart

Louis is still here, all alone, huddled in the shadow of Nestling Tower at night. During the day, he flies to the top, keeping watch the way his parents used to when they were taking care of three little monsters.

“Fly away,” I tell him. “There’s nothing for you here.”

He stares at me but doesn’t leave.

31st July: Stranger in a strange land

This morning, Gary arrived on Crow Ledge with a crow friend and showed off how he hops onto the rail to get me to feed them. I obligingly go out with kibble, but crow-friend is too nervous and doesn’t get any of it.

Once I’m back inside, Gary hops onto the rail again, watching me hopefully. Feeling sorry for the crow-friend, I went out a second time with kibble, making sure the friend gets some.

Back at my desk, I see movement on Crow Ledge out of the corner of my eye and mutter “Not again!” Then I realize it’s Louis. He’s not even begging for food. He is just standing on Crow Ledge and being sociable, because now apparently I’m his only friend.

I am not going to feed him. I’m not I’m not I’m not.

1st August: Missed connections

Louis sat moping around the roof all day, flying from the rails to Nestling Watchtower to the rails again. Finally, he flew off towards the coast. Not thirty minutes later, his parents showed up from whatever week-long swingers’ party that they’d been gallivanting at. They seemed surprised that Louis was not where they’d left him. A small angry part of me hoped this might scare them into keeping a better eye on their offspring.

2nd August: Just another day

Louis has come back and found his parents waiting. Now the whole thing is somehow awkward, like they don’t know what to do with this strapping big gull. They don’t want to abandon him on the roof, I mean, at least not for good, but why can’t he do like Huey and Dewey and move out? Louis, on the other hand, is all moody attitude and angst. He’d dye his feathers black if he could. He paces around the roof and demands food like a perpetually starving teenager, then belligerently swoops onto Nestling Watchtower. The Parent Gulls sheepishly flutter over to the rail. Occasionally one brings him a dripping lump of something squishy that I don’t want to think too hard about. And that’s where we stand, now. The sixth floor has turned into an episode of the Osbournes: a completely dysfunctional gull family and their nosy neighbor.

3rd August: The nest that wouldn’t empty

They have to move on eventually. Next door’s roof is deserted. There are fewer and fewer gulls here every day. There’s no sign of Huey and Dewey anywhere.

And then there’s my roof, with BroodingLouis and his helicopter parents. Actual helicopters might do a better job of pushing him out of the nest.

A neighbor asked me if I get lonely, in my rooftop apartment all on my lonesome and I started laughing and now she thinks there’s something wrong with me.

7th August: I think we’re alone now

The adults have left, I think for good this time. Louis is still here.

The neighboring rooftops belong to the jackdaws now. On my roof, they seem content to share with the crows and Louis. Gary remains adamant that Louis is not allowed on Crow Ledge.

I’m not really sure why Louis is still here or what, if anything, I should do about it.

15th August: Size matters

I bought a feeder and water bowl online as a present for Gary. But it turned out to be sparrow-sized not crow-sized.

Little brown birds found the water dish this morning and are frolicking. Louis watches with platonic interest. Gary is furious, emanating vibes of I AM BETRAYED. He’s now sitting on the rail over in gull territory rather than with me.

I moved the feeder/water dish from Crow Ledge to Sparrow Corner and yesterday Gary grudgingly came over and hopped up onto the rail and then turned his back on me. I went out with kibble which he begrudgingly accepted as an apology.

However, this morning, I discovered the water dish in Sparrow Corner had been wrenched off of the railing. The whole thing lay collapsed on the ledge. Now, I’m not saying that it was necessarily Gary but there are There Are Important Questions To Be Asked such as whether Gary has an alibi during the time in question.

16th August: The burden of proof

I fear that Gary has been falsely accused. Today Louis walked along Crow Ledge to Sparrow Corner and then stopped and stared in confusion at where the bird bath used to be.

I don’t think Gary dismantled the birdbath in a rage.

I think Louis sat on it.

20th August: Teenage wasteland

There are juvenile gulls walking around the park, looking fully-fledged and healthy except for the fact that they are walking around the park. They pick at the trash and cry at passers-by. These are the miscreants of the gull world who will grow up to steal bags of chips from seaside shops. I wonder of my Louis is one of them.

25th August: The slow fade

Louis doesn’t come onto the terrace anymore. I still see him most days on the far side of the roof, looking out over the town square. There’s no evidence of any other gulls on the rooftops, so I guess it is just me and him now.

Louis perches on the roof just like any other gull. But I remember the three of them going everywhere together and little Louis always trailing a little bit behind. Now I see him standing sentinel out there on his own and it breaks my heart.

1st September: Sunset vigil

I went out on the roof to sit with Louis today. I know it is him because when I walk out to say hello, he doesn’t fly away. The weather is sunny but crisp. The sun sets earlier every day. Distant sounds drift up from below: teenagers listening to music at the basketball court, a car with a spluttering engine revving through the intersection.

Up here, it’s just the two of us. Louis has filled out to the size and shape of an adult gull: only the white and beige feathers of a juvenile give him away. I wonder where he’s getting his meals and if he’ll be OK over the winter. I wonder if next spring, I’ll be able to tell him from the returning herring gulls. I wonder if his parents will come back here to nest and if so, if he will say hello.

He stays late this evening, maybe because I’m there. We stand together and watch the sun sink towards the sea. Then, while the streaks still light the fading sky, Louis flies away.

I don’t say goodbye. I don’t think he’s going anywhere, and I don’t think I mind.

18 September: Postscript

While I was finishing this essay, I realised that I hadn’t seen Louis for over a week, other than being startled when a low-flying gull buzzed the terrace, like a scene out of Top Gun. Only Louis would dare.

I walked out into the autumn sunshine and looked over the top of the town. A pigeon, presumably a Tallinn tourist, fluttered past. Two juveniles gulls and an adult perched on top of the shopping center, watching me.

As I turned to go in, a beige-and-white gull landed behind me. I approached slowly, unsure. But Louis calmly watched me as I approached and then posed for a photograph. We sat together for a moment. Then he flew off towards the coastline.

And that’s the only ending I’ve got. Me, alone on the roof, and Louis, flying away.

This was the third and final part of the Three Months of a Gull-Infested Roof. While this series is free, your support keeps the crows fed and the stories coming.

Three Months of a Gull-Infested Roof

• Part One: Feathered Siege

  The invasion begins.

• Part Two: Fluffy Occupation
  Three chicks turn Sylvia’s life upside down.

• Part Three: The Last Gull Standing (you are here)
  Sylvia thought she knew how this story would end. She was wrong.

Still to come:

• Afterword: After the Gulls of Summer Have Gone
  Exclusive reflections and behind-the-scenes insights for paid subscribers.

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