I recently paid a visit to a coastal lighthouse near sunset looking for.....well, I don't know what. It is a spot I've been to on many occasions, and have watched Northern Gannets dive for fish, Harlequin Ducks ride the surf, and seals loaf on the rocks. I've even seen tourists contort themselves into all kinds of positions to try and take the best selfies.
Today I didn't have a plan, I was just looking. The first thing I noted was a small flock of Harlequin Ducks hanging out with a few Common Eider, and so I scrambled down the rocks for a closer look and maybe some "golden hour" photographs of the birds up close. As I was dodging the incoming tide and scrambling amongst the rocks, I became aware of a steady stream of gulls, first flying inland.....and then another group flying just offshore and landing. Almost like they were taking turns.
Fully distracted by the outstanding sunset views, the rollicking Harlequins, and the waves that periodically threatened to wash me off the slippery, seaweed covered rocks - I noted the activity of the gulls, but really didn't take the time to ponder it. After all, gulls along the coast are, well, pretty ordinary, right? And an amazing winter sunset in the presence of sea ducks is not something to take lightly.
Until I turned around to head back! Eventually driven off by the incoming tide, I decided it was time to scramble back up the cliff to higher ground and a dry vantage point. But when I turned back, the rocks behind me were *covered* with gulls. Gulls bathing in puddles, gulls loafing. Gulls threatening their neighbors to back off and leave space. And gulls fluttering. But the center of the activity, the midst of the surprisingly quiet chaos, was one man. One, solitary human, standing out on the rocks, with a bag of what appeared to be cheetos. This wasn't a standard bag, it was probably 2 feet tall. And this man was not your regular - toss popcorn out the car window - gull feeder. He, and the gulls, clearly had a relationship - a familiarity - a pattern. And I was witnessing their bond, and a unique display of trust.
This amazing person fed the gulls one at a time, and one piece of food at a time. He would look at the nearest gull, make eye contact, and hold the snack of food towards that bird. The indicated bird came over, in an orderly fashion, and accepted the treat. Some birds took the food from his hand. Others hovered overhead, and waited for the snack to be tossed into the air. After the birds took the food - they flew to a nearby rock to eat while the next bird queued up. This was not a gull free for all, not to say there wasn't the occasional misunderstanding or normal gull squabble over possesion of the food - but on the whole, it was an orderly procession.
After a group of gulls had received their share, they would move off into the nearby water to bathe, converse, squabble, and just generally be gulls while another cluster of birds moved up to the man to be fed. And so the cycle went, lasting over an hour, while each bird was greeted, recognized, fed, and then made way for the next animal to come close.
It's easy to dismiss something as ordinary, and even look down on the ordinary with disdain. Even I have been known to cringe when I see someone dumping giant piles of bread in a parking lot to feed the gulls. But when you get closer to the ordinary, when you take time to watch it, to actually understand what you are seeing, suddenly - this ordinary behaviour can become quite extraordinary indeed. And in this busy holiday season when the emphasis often becomes doing more, giving more, being just a little more special -- sometimes, just taking the time to spend with nature is really the most extraordinary thing. I must say, as excited as I was to see the flock of Harlequin Duck 20 feet from shore, I went home that night with a much more special memory - and one I won't forget anytime soon. A man, feeding gulls on a rocky shore.
