Now I know how a fish feels.
I arrived home this afternoon to find somewhere near eighty seagulls perched across mounds of plowed snow.
The gulls raised a real ruckus when I got out of my my car. The cries of gulls are not uncommon in my area so I paid little attention until, turning with arms full of groceries, I discovered myself standing dead in the center of a ring of birds.
Surprised but not startled, I headed up the drive. En mass the gulls took flight - and all settled on the roof of my house, nearly obliterating the gray shingles.
Silently promising to ring the neck of any bird that pooped over the edge of the rain gutter, I went inside, deposited my groceries, then headed back out for the next load of bags.
The gulls left the roof, reassembled on the driveway, then returned to the roof. This migration continued until I finished emptying the car.
By the final trip I was beginning to feel as though the gulls were eying me in much the same way I had been been scrutinizing the specials on the store shelves just a short time earlier.
Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds came to mind and I was glad to reach the completion of my chore.
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