Trees

The seagulls now rule Pratt Park unchallenged.  The ravens have been dispersed.  I felt thankful for the protection of the spindly naked tree limbs as I ate an apple for lunch.  Overhead big seagulls sped, peering down at me looking for an opportunity to feed.  The security offered by being in close proximity to a tree felt primal, like it goes all the way back to the K–T boundary mass extinction event.  I am reminded of the line from one of the Lord of the Rings movies when the Luciferian Saruman says, "Tear down the ancient trees."  Or something to that effect.

Hiding Under the Trees

The birds are hungry.  For the past couple of weeks whenever I walk through Pratt Park during the lunch hour on my way to Yesler and then on up to Douglass Truth Library I am preyed upon by seagulls and ravens.  I eat, usually a piece of fruit and an energy bar, while I ride, as the English say, shanks' pony.  When the weather is warm the seagulls rarely pester me.  (As long as I'm holding something edible, the big black birds bother me no matter what time of year.)

Now that it's chilly and the days short the seagulls come inland looking for food.  They're attracted to Pratt Park because it's a large green space surrounded by dense housing with lots of foot traffic.  The seagulls travel in flocks and can spy me from high above and far away.  Guano spatters the ground when the flock moves in and circles overhead thinking I have food.  Seagulls can be aggressive.

So today rather than cut through the park I stay on Main Street, which borders the park on the south and fronts Pratt Fine Arts Center, and then take a left and go north on 20th until I reach Yesler.  This way I am hidden beneath the trees that line the sidewalk.  And while the raven will follow you by flying from tree to tree, the seagull cannot; it has a long wingspan and webbed feet.