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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. ..
.. .. ..
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. |