The Trouble with Tranquility

I promised you rooftop updates of the gulls nesting on my roof and even offered a Dramatis Personae, including the Gull Pair, and, of course, Gary the Crow. To this, I was excited to include Valkarion, First of Their Name, born on the 15th of May and the only child of this year’s nest. The Unknown Gull, who initially seemed to be an integrated part of a Gull Triad, disappeared soon after the baby stopped being an adorable ball of fluff and started actually demanding annoying things like attention and food. I hope Unknown Gull finds a more enlightening polycule, but I am not surprised that he, like I, swiftly grew bored of the Gull Pair on my roof.

To be honest, I was also not enchanted with Valkarion as I watched him grow into a long-legged fledgling with no sense of adventure whatsoever. The previous broods had quickly explored the roof and were unceasingly curious about my apartment perched on the end of it, with furniture on the terrace and intriguing movement and sounds coming from within. But Valkarion did not. Valkarion loved the nest, which, to be fair, was the most successful attempt that the Gull Pair had built over the three springs that I had been here. By summer, the nest had sprouted with weeds and Valkarion loved nothing more than to sit in the nest among the greenery.

As a result, the Gull Pair were most unbothered by my existence and even tolerated me sitting out on my terrace on sunny days. The crows also noted the relaxed attitude and quickly returned to the ledge to beg for treats.

Valkarion, I’m pretty sure, did not even know that I existed. I didn’t even have to construct the baby stair-gate. Now, I’m not saying I longed for the madness of Huey, Duey and Louie trying to sneak over to spy on me every time their parents looked away, but it seemed like Valkarion could show just a little interest.

I did not realise that Valkarion was not the main character of this saga, not until I returned after a fortnight away for a work trip.

I had half hoped that I would return to discover that Valkarion had a party on my terrace in memory of their three siblings last summer, but no. The terrace was clean. Valkarion still sat quietly on the nest, which by now had sprouted weedy yellow flowers.

But as I was checking in on the gulls, something small and chirpy attracted my interest. I paused to see a much smaller bird shrieking at me incessantly, a white wagtail.

The wagtail flew from rail to table, clearly focused on me and my unreasonable intrusion into its personal space. I retreated inside, but that did nothing to alleviate its anger. After over an hour of being greeted with outrage instead of a warm welcome home, I retreated to the bedroom. The wagtail, happy that I was out of sight, was finally quiet.

It was with shock and horror that the wagtail greeted me on Monday morning. Why on earth had I returned to the living room?! This time, two of them flew around my terrace and balcony, protesting loudly against my presence in a frankly ill-thought-out attempt to keep me from noticing their nest. I had no idea where they were nesting, would not even have realized there was a nest if they hadn’t continued their display. They were clearly delusional.

After two days of being shouted at for the egregious crime of sitting in my own apartment, I was ready to go out and find the damned nest so that I could evict the pair of them from my terrace.

Gary showed up on Wednesday, looking like he’d been on a week-long bender. I went to feed him, but the gulls were beginning to pay attention again, alerted by the wagtails that there was something interesting going on. A gull swooped at my head, cheered on by the pair of wagtails. Gary gave me a cold look as he flapped away.

I was not sure what wrong turn I took in life, that all of the local wildlife was plotting my demise

The wagtails scolded me for every second I spent in my living room from 9am until 11pm when the late summer sunsets finally sent them to an exhausted sleep.

Valkarion was uninterested as ever, remaining in their flowered nest. But the Gull Pair were definitely wondering what the hell all the racket was about.

I began searching real estate listings.

By Friday, I was blaring loud music in an attempt to work on an article and drown out the scolding.

Just as I started making progress, all hell broke loose. Gary, two gulls and both wagtails converged on my terrace in a flurry of feathers and bad vibes. I went out and shouted at them to shut up until everyone scattered.

Somewhere below me, I heard a window slide shut. They probably couldn’t hear the wagtails, but they certainly could hear me screaming at them. If the building manager, who knows I live alone, came up to find out what is going on, I had no idea how I would explain. Before I finished the thought, the wagtails returned and resumed their scolding. Maybe if I just pointed at them, the building manager would understand.

It was a quiet Sunday morning in Paldiski, the church bells ringing in the distance. I sipped my coffee and scrolled on my phone, no deadline for a change. Valkarion sat quietly in their nest of flowers. I sat down at my desk and looked up to see a gull standing inside my planter.

The planter is a territorial line. The fledglings had crossed it and even sat at the edge of it, but never the adults. And never inside it.

The silence suddenly took on new meaning. The wagtails. I ran out, not stopping to put on shoes. Tiny bones crunched under my bare feet. The gull barely glanced at me before flying away, lazily. Sated. Two bloodstained feathers were stuck to the wooden deck.

The gull had eaten the wagtail nest and possibly the wagtails.

I sat on my terrace chair, no longer driven away by the constant scolding. What was most frustrating was that the wagtails had only nested there because the gulls were uncharacteristically quiet. Who the hell builds a small nest next to a gull family? But the truth is that they had been completely safe there, hidden in the planter, until I returned home. The constant fluttering and scolding did not protect their nest; it just made the gulls wonder who else might be living on their roof.

And now my terrace was both a crime scene and a buffet aftermath.

Gary, not surprisingly, opted to keep his distance.

That evening, I looked up to see one lonely wagtail, sitting on the railing directly across from my sofa, silently staring at me. “It’s not my fault,” I said.  My words sounded hollow, even to me.  I moved to the kitchen, unable to stand the accusing look in its eyes, returning to the sofa only once the sun began to set.

The wagtail was still there. It gave me one last baleful look and flew away. I never saw it again.