My Stare-Down with a Chubby Gull

Hi, readers:

My much-loved laptop has finally crashed, making it rather difficult for me to keep up with freelance work, let alone blog for awhile. Please bear with me. To tide you over, here's a little anecdote I wrote up on the airplane to D.C. last week...

A couple of weeks ago, I’d been running around downtown after work chasing a long list of errands, when I decided to slow down and enjoy the weather. I ran into Borders to grab a sandwich and pick out a new novel, then headed to Millennium Park. Finding one of few empty benches in Wrigley Square, I sat down with my sandwich and opened my book.

Minding my own business, out of the corner of my eye I realized that I was being stared at--hard. Soon, the pit-pat of webbed feet inched just a little bit closer to where my own toes were relaxing on the sidewalk. As I glanced over, my gaze was greeted by a very bulbous gull, intently eying not me, but my sandwich.

As I sat there munching, trying to ignore my fat new friend, and assuming he’d fly off after bit, I quickly realized that he was enraptured by my sandwich and firmly rooted to the spot. I stopped reading and returned his stare-down. “Okay, bird. What’s your next move?” I thought. His response? Nothing but the occasional birdy twitch of the head. I laughed out loud at his persistence. He still didn’t budge.

Yet, for all his stubbornness, I did not feed him. After all, I could see that he was already quite over-stuffed with tourists' crumbs. He remained virtually immobile until the very last bite had entered my mouth. As I crumpled my wrapper into a ball and nonchalantly returned my attention to my novel, he honked at me disapprovingly. After waiting for my acknowledgment, he honked again, turned, and waddled away. As I watched his fat little backside trailing away, I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself.