Ah Frank. I have the perfect post for your picture this week.
You may sit there, with your feathered chest all puffed out, thinking you’re safe and above it all.
You may crow (I know, describing your call as Gull isn’t quite the same) to all and sundry of your presence.
You may dip and dive to pinch chips or anything else that takes your fancy out of tourists hands as they wander down the prom.
You may hover or ride the wind over the water.
Once you are on land mate, you are fair game.
Maggie has her eye on you, and although she’s not as fast as she used to be, she will still give you a run for your money.
And one day, she will catch you and roll you.
A pigeon lived to tell such a tale, though he limps a bit now.
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