The Undead Zombie Gull

In my mind, everyone else sits down and starts typing and thirty minutes later they have some perfectly crafted prose and they upload it to their mailing list and then go and sit on the beach drinking cocktails out of a coconut shell.

OK, maybe not everyone has the coconut-shell cocktail.

This piece is challenging in unexpected ways. I’m working with a strict linear format, which I’m finding particularly difficult to keep brisk. And I have thousands of words of notes which I’ve been trying to reduce down to a story, with plenty of darlings to kill, that I want to share with you but which don’t serve the narrative.

I don’t want to play the tortured artists but I do feel like sometimes, just sometimes, it could be a bit easier. Especially this time, when it’s a silly thing that really has no reason why it needs to exist in the world. I’ve been stealing hours out of other projects just to find myself revising day three for the third time or struggling with what to call the HVAC unit on the roof (Nestling Tower, if you are wondering).

I briefly considered the idea of “publish or perish” and then I looked at my draft and I thought, no. I’d rather perish.

All this to say that I’m going to give myself a break and save this not-quite-ready essay until the middle of the month. However, as penance, I’m offering this teaser. I have dark thoughts that this darling might have to be cut so I’m front-running the decision point by sharing it with you now.

The Undead Zombie Gull

8 May

Today, when I looked up at the roof, one gull was sitting, as usual, sitting by the nest-in-progress and another was standing by the neon sign, much closer to my terrace. I walked out to shoo it away, as I must protect my territory. To my surprise, the gull didn’t fly away. Instead, it slowly turned away from me and shambled towards the nest. I got my binoculars to take a closer look. It did not look like a healthy gull. It did not look well at all.

I have never seen such a haggard and tired-looking gull. I think it might be undead.

The jackdaws have also noticed and are looking at it hungrily.

9 May

This morning, the gull pair were by their nest but there was no sign of ZombieGull. Then I sat down by my desk and found him right outside my window, staring at me. He’s on my balcony at Crow Ledge, but even when Gary wants to get my attention, he generally won’t come that close to the window. It’s too close to me for comfort. ZombieGull is quite clear that I’m sitting here, just half a metre away.  He just does not give a shit.

One of the breeding pair has come onto my terrace. I think it is looking for ZombieGull. I know where ZombieGull is: it’s hiding behind a glass carboy by my bedroom. “Hey Grandpa, are you there?” I know that feeling of desperately needing a break from your relatives so I’m not going to rat it out.

There’s no sign of ZombieGull this evening. I checked through all the windows and then went outside and around the terrace. Nothing. Not even a feather.

The breeding pair don’t appear to be concerned.

I’m going to assume ZombieGull went on to a happier place. How do gulls die? Do they look for dead space to crawl into like a cat?

I hope there’s not a gull corpse somewhere underneath the wooden deck.

Although to be fair, the crows would probably be thrilled.