the important things the things that matter the things that moveth men

 

Seagulls lining up in echelon, airborne in front of me.

One close enough to my face, another a little above him to his left.

Another above that one.

And so on.

There's about seven of them doing the formation flying.

Just hovering there.

It's really impressive.

I toss a little piece of bread. The first in the queue takes it and wheels away.

Then the second.

Then the third.

And so on.

Another bunch of seagulls, about fifty of them, are jockeying for position outside of the immediate bread zone.

"I will never get tired of this," I murmur.

Behind me Gregory Peck the swan takes a hoult of my left buttock and gives it a good squeeze.

"Okay Swannie," I tell him. "I'm not forgetting you."

"You'd better not," growls the swan.