I don’t know about you but seagulls squawking raucously on rooftops in towns bring out the worst in me. They shouldn’t be there, they’re in the wrong place – after all, they are seagulls, not towngulls! They are often to be seen raiding bins or take-away boxes discarded on the pavements, fighting noisily amongst themselves.
But during the last week, because I’m managing steps so much better, I’ve had a project on to climb down the 41 steps to our bit of beach, and then down the steeply shelved stones to the sand, and stand awhile propped up by the breakwater, something I’ve not been able to do for 15 years or so – it’s been wonderful! The first couple of days, Jo and I watched the seagulls picking up live mussels left in numbers on the sand by the receding tide, then flying up into the air, and dropping the mussels onto the stones to crack the shells so they could get at them to eat. Neat eh?
Then the wind got up creating huge waves, changing the landscape and shelve of our beach, the sand and even the size of the stones in a dramatic and powerful way (where did all that tiny-sized shingle come from?). And what were our seagulls doing? To our amazement, these opportunist birds were skimming over the breaking waves upon the shore, where fish were being forcefully sucked into the shallows, whereupon they would leap into the air to try and get back into deeper water. And immediately, a seagull would catch it in its beak (some looking 8” or so long, and very plump) and fly off with it to a more secluded patch to have a royal feast. It was an extraordinary sight, with the strong tang of fish and sea in our nostrils, and crashing noisy sound of the waves in our ears.
And it made me think, where and how do we feed?
How adaptable and innovative are we in unusual circumstances; how responsive to grasp unexpected and indeed all opportunities to feast at His table?