Laughing Gull, inspired conversation, and swan tattoo
Unusually for me, I'm writing this on my phone, in my tent. I left for my West Country adventure a day early. I was becoming an irritating and irritable man, snapping at the people around me that I care for. So, more from a desire to keep an unstable peace than a fervent need to be birding (though let's be honest, that's always true too) I set off for Penzance at 2.20am.
Cornwall always shocks me. How long it takes to get there, and then, how long it takes to get through it. At 8.30am, I pulled up at the car park at Long Rock brimming with hope at the report of an early morning Laughing Gull in summer plumage. Two hours of scanning and checking every gull in the harbour failed to help the amused larid materialise, and I resolved to stump off to Tesco to pick up last minute camping supplies before attempting to pitch a tent in some challenging gusts of wind... after one final check before I went, and there, in the middle of the flock of larger gulls, the Laughing Gull was. For three seconds. Before I could even tell anyone else I had it, the whole flock of 150+ birds erupted into the air in one of those weird panic-over-nothing moments that gulls all have. It vanished.
I'm sure nobody believed me when I said I'd seen it. Though we searched and searched it seemed my brief view would be all I would get. I went and pitched my tent, only to get a message from a friend to say the gull was back. If you've ever driven around Pendeen, Penzance, Sennen and the area, you'll know there's almost no chance of rushing anywhere. Huge tractors, tiny bends, tourist traffic, and speeding birders contribute to a road experience akin to a monster truck derby. But arrive I did, and the joker in the pack performed like a gentleman of relaxed moral virtue for three hours. It never flushed further than 30 metres, and never seemed to want to associate with smaller gulls, sticking with the loose flock of Herring and Lesser Black-backed, while Black-headed and a healthy contingent of Mediterraneans looked on.
What a beautiful bird! I've seen a winter bird in the past, but never one in full summer plumage. The blue-grey mantle, the velvety dark hood with crisp white eye crescents... the blood red heavy bill and those long legs matched with the stretched form and sharp-dressed-man attire of the overall colours meant that this gull has serious appeal. Why else would I take 1600 photos of it... and the call - that Laughing bray from which it gets its name was brilliant to hear.
But for once this wasn't the highlight of my day. Two conversations that I had with people I don't know framed my experiences. First was a man who helped me see the Laughing Gull, a man who has struggled with his mental health in a way that chimed with my own struggles. The positivity and affirmation of that conversation, the feeling that I am not alone in my fear of failure and rejection and the anxiety about the futility of middle aged life was an unexpected moment of reassurance. We each left saying that we had gained from the chat, and it was this positivity that led to a second conversation.
Because I had taken the last table at the Buryan Inn this evening, I offered to share with a stranger- something I would never normally do - who was walking the coast path, and who sported an origami Swan tattoo that I loved. Her extraordinary courage and positivity, grasp of what she wanted to achieve and why was a real inspiration. The simplicity with which she could see hugely complex issues and then move her life to improve things is a rare skill and after the conversation I admired how she had encouraged me in subtle and open ways. I would never have overcome my introverted tendencies to have that conversation without talking to a fellow birder openly about the risks we sometimes have to take as we recover. The simplicity of the lines of the origami Swan concealed the complexity that made it recognisable as a bird; a symbolic reminder of the simplification I sometimes need to help me aim to leave every conversation with more positivity in it than when I joined it.
Something the Laughing Gull does every time it opens its beak.
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