Gulls might be unloved, but mostly misunderstood

I’m so much a part of the landscape that you may never notice me.

My drab brown-white-gray feathers help me blend in as I land on urban rooftops and light poles.

I’m a gull, and like Rodney Dangerfield, I can’t get no respect.

To you, eagles, falcons and even the lowly sparrow are living works of art. You revere crows and ravens – eaters of garbage and road kill – for their intelligence. Some of you even think pigeons, nothing more than rats with wings, are cute.

Many of you who call yourselves “birders” hate me.

Never fear. I’m here, circling above your head.

You had better watch out.

I’ll steal your lunch if you turn your back for just a second.

Wash your car, and the next day I’ll pepper it with goops of white poop.

I’ll squawk at you if you come too close to my nest, and if that doesn’t work, I’ll bomb you from the sky.

But I swear I’m lovable.

Just ask Mike Donahue. He teaches classes about gulls for the Seattle Audubon Society.

“They’re different,” said Donahue, who says there’s a lot to love if you look hard.

“Nobody ever likes scavengers – the general public doesn’t think that’s a cool way to live,” he said. “I like them.”

Donahue points to my ingenious ability to find food in the strangest places as my best asset.

“They’re ideally set up to pay attention to what other animals are doing and then get food from them,” he said. “We’re a good species for them to hang out with.”

Yep, we’re the clean-up crew.

I’m not happy unless I’m fishing yummy snacks out of trash cans or swooping under your feet to snag that french fry you dropped (please drop another).

So while we gulls get a bad rap for pooping all over your sidewalks, windows and cars, we can’t help it. And when that happens, just think of the benefits we provide by helping to remove your trash.

Casual birders may turn their nose up at us, but true birders – the ones who want a real challenge – flock to us.

We are challenging to identify because we could be one of 14 species of gulls and our dingy look makes it hard to tell the difference. It’s also exceedingly difficult to figure out how old we are – adults and immature gulls look pretty much the same.

So instead of poo-pooing our species, remember the Everett High School mascot or the squad of women who cheer for the Seahawks, then enjoy my musical chatter and go ahead and guess how old I am. Or just look up and enjoy the view. I’ll try not to make you regret it.

By Lukas Velush

Herald writer