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On the way to work the other day, I passed a seagull in the street,
a dusty, scruffy looking fellow. Swanston Street is a pretty busy
street in the heart of Melbourne's CBD. The little fellow had
staked out a bit of turf for himself, a sandy patch under a tree,
constantly threatened by the feet of passers-by, from which he
kept a barely comfortable distance. I was already running late,
as usual, so decided to wait and see if he was still in the same
spot later, which he was, two-and-a-half hours later.
I
decided to test his mobility by approaching him, cautious not
to steer him in the direction of the road and the on-coming cars
and trams. He was good on his feet, but could only manage two
to three metres of flight to a height of about a metre. My conscience
wouldn’t let me leave him there, so ill-equipped in such a hostile
environment.
I was totally unprepared for a capture and transport. A situation
remedied by a green shopping bag scrounged from the office, a
few spring-back clips to secure the top of the bag and a cheap
pillowcase purchased in a hurry from the supermarket at Melbourne
Central over the road.
I
felt a bit self-conscious, standing in the middle of the footpath,
armed with a pillowcase, observing a seagull, under the scrutiny
of people passing by. I mustn't have looked as odd as I thought,
though, as a young guy, an overseas student, stopped to ask directions.
I couldn't help him out, never heard of the hotel he was looking
for, but I explained what I was doing. He wished me luck and went
on his way. It took a couple of attempts, but it was really quite
easy to steer bird into a corner, drop the pillowcase over him,
scoop him up into the shopping bag and secure it with the clips.
We
then proceeded to the railway station and caught the train to
Glen Waverley, a forty minute journey. On the way, I called my
wildlife mentor to explain the situation and get some advice,
a somewhat public conversation with a few people within earshot.
Fortunately, we got a lift home from the station (otherwise a
30 minute walk), and called into the fish shop on the way. My
little charge was very calm through all of this. I couldn't help
but think, what an adventure for a little bird.
He has settled in to our downstairs bathroom very well. He loves
his tubs of water, sardines and premium mince. He's lost a flight
feather and one of his toenails is a bit deformed, but I think
he's looking very beautiful.
He's not going back to Swanston Street. The beach seems a much
more appropriate place for a seagull.
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Epilogue
After
some time in care and with the seagull looking strong and confident
and flying better, I decided to release our "Little Fellow"
at a local recreational park or beach. I discussed the birds rehabilitation
progress with a local shelter operator who has lots of knowledge
about seabirds, who agreed with me that it was time for the seagull
to be released.
I checked out a local recreational park on the Friday. At first
glance it looked like quite a suitable environment as it had a
nice lake and a little group of gulls for Little Fellow to join.
But
the first thing I saw when I got out of the car was a dead seagull
with a broken neck. There were no signs of attack, such as wounds
or displaced feathers - I thought that maybe it had flown in to
something?
I was also a bit concerned about the seagull feathers which were
littered all over the expanse of grass, and wondered if foxes
were problem. I decided this might not be a good option after
all.
I drew on my knowledge of the local beaches and the street directory
to choose Sandringham Beach as the release location, but only
if there were a suitable group of seagulls for Little Fellow to
join.
Unlike many of the other metropolitan beaches around Melbourne,
Sandringham beach is separated from the main road by a sizable
grassed picnic area, from which there is a drop to a lovely sandy
beach with rocks up one end, and it also adjoins a football ground.
There was a lovely group of about 50 seagulls of varying ages
near the rocks, some still quite young, and many around his age
(not quite an adult).
It was great to see the Little Fellow take his place among them,
which he did immediately on being released.
I'm sure he'll be fine, after all, he had fended for himself in
a hostile environment before coming into care 11 days before.
After a several days of rest and rehabilitation, Little Fellow
was back where he belonged.
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