In Which I Get Attacked by a Bird

Actually, I wasn't directly attacked by a bird, my food was, though there was a little do-si-do.

When: May 13, 2014, 3:30 PM-ish.

Location: Andria's Seafood at the Ventura California Harbor.  San Buenaventura for those who want to be fancy or technical.

Temperature: A scorching 95-100 degrees Fahrenheit, depending on the minute.  In short HOT, especially for a sea town.

What: A prowling Seagull with an appetite.

I got the Andria's original fish and chips.  If I'm going to eat at a harbor, that just seems like a proper choice, nonconformist aside.

Because of the hot weather we (my Mom, Grandfather, and brother Steven) wanted to eat outside.  (Well, eating outside was mainly attributed to keeping my Grandpa's dog Ginger out of the hot van).  A perfect view of all the boats and sea life was simply a bonus, one in which I will not complain.

The sea life . . .

Sea Life!!

I'm used to seagulls and other sea fowl being somewhat respectful.  They know their place, waiting patiently for scraps of crumbs and fries, so when I was arranging the recently cooked fish and other sea offerings (aka clam chowder and scallops) around the table, I wasn't prepared for what was about to happen.

Out of no where a seagull swooped down and grabbed one of my fish!!

I clapped him away immediately, and he flew, only to return to his spot, on top the roof covering, staring me down as he paced back and forth, watching as I ate, undeterred.  Him without victory.  Single score point pour moi.

Another fish order later, to replace my first, and I thought he gave up the task, but the pesky bird tried again, swooping in, snatching unsuccessfully, as I stood up and chased.

Later he flew to the trash, and I threw a crumpled up napkin, which he gleefully snatched, taking the unattended decoy.

I thought that was the end, but alas, it wasn't.  In a moment of seagull reprieve, three black birds swooped in for the kill, equally unsuccessful.

And then the seagull was back on his canvas perch.

He flew down to land a top the trash, hopping around a bit as I hopped up to defend.  I clapped, he hopped to a railing, I rushed around, he hopped back to the trash, and so on.

By battles end I totally believe I won . . . with no loss of personal dignity . . .