A journal entry, written 29th June 2026

The local seagulls have been properly on one this morning. As I lay in bed after waking up, I could only imagine there was some kind of turf war going on, as a cacophony of cries blessed my ears from early hours of the morning.

I walked to the beach about 6 o’clock and there were tonnes of baby seagulls hanging about on rooves with their parents. One of them however was getting bullied by it’s older brethren. Maybe it was a younger sibling being picked on, or maybe it forgot to clean it’s room, but this little grey fluff-ball was taking quite a beating. It furthered my distaste for the birds, but I did feel bad for the little guy. Maybe this is why they turn into such scoundrels, if they face such abuse at an early age.
There was a magpie sitting on a roof closer to me as I watched this affair. It was staring straight at me (well either side of me I suppose) as if it was saying ‘You seeing this shit?’ It looked as if it wanted to step in and was looking to me for assistance. Alas, there was nothing I could do.
Thankfully (and somewhat ironically) the concentration of seagulls at the beach was far smaller, and instead there were much more preferable birds. Swifts!

I also passed a remarkably sinister looking cat on the way to the beach, but I fear if I write ill of it it will curse me.

I’m not sure if there were a lot of swifts or if it was the same two or three looping around, but they kept zipping about, really close to where I sat. (There are bright red shuttle busses in the local area and they drive past my window frequently. Whenever they do, light bounces of them and my ceiling goes bright red for a moment. It’s really fun.) They (the swifts) were so interesting to watch they distracted me entirely from my book (Watership Down). Watching their tiny, streamlined bodies darting around, barely off the ground, was endlessly fascinating. Oh to have such freedom, to move with such frantic grace. They looked to take such joy in it. I think swifts must be a competitor for my favourite bird, next to long-tailed tits (I adore those little guys).
I messaged my Granma about the swifts, as I know she loves birds (and it’s nice to talk to her). She said they may be grouping up like this to prepare for migration. They’re ‘First to arrive and last to go’ apparently. But if they’re off soon I shall have to appreciate them while they’re here. (That dog had sunglasses, and there goes the red ceiling again.)

There was a rather curious looking crow (I think, some black corvidae at least) at the beach too. I watched it from pretty far away as it waddled straight towards me across the sand. It made such a beeline in my direction and got close enough I thought it might hop onto the wall I was sitting on and ask what I was reading. It sadly did not. (Red ceiling).