Larissa, and not to forget her mate, Larris. Last year they settled on the garage roof, right at the edge, where they took turns incubating a single egg. Eventually, out came a little gray-green speckled downy chick, and the seagull-like happiness was immense. Yes, we shared, more or less, the excitement over the little one. But both Larris and Larissa became quite grumpy and quarrelsome. Not to mention loud-mouthed. There was screeching and scolding like no other whenever someone went out the door. Well, we thought, it won’t last that long. But it did. The fairly flat garage roof with asbestos-cement sheets was a perfect nursery for the seagull chick. There was busy traffic to and from with treats for the growing family. Every time the feeding express had a free moment, there was either loud choral singing from the roof ridge or dive-bombing after the cat or other creatures unfortunate enough to be in what they clearly defined as a forbidden area. However, it must be admitted that the residents of the house had a kind of free pass to move around the area as long as they stuck to ordinary, everyday tasks. Except for the house cat. The cat developed acute agoraphobia. It eased a little over the winter, only to be replaced by a touch of cryophobia, but now the agoapphobia has flared up again.
The maternity ward on the garage roof eventually turned into a kindergarten, preschool, elementary school, and finally a middle school. Every day when we came home from work, the little one was the first thing we looked for, to see if it had jumped down. But we were disappointed—every day. We even set up an old foam mattress to soften the fall, but it didn't help.

But suddenly one day, he was both able to fly and confirmed and almost an adult, and then he was gone. Peace settled over the courtyard, and we could once again welcome visitors without equipping them with helmets and hearing protection. It was in that context that I had a serious talk with Larris and clearly warned him that we would not tolerate this. They were evicted from the garage roof and were welcome to find another breeding place.
Then winter passed and spring came. And with spring, two clearly spring-crazed little seagulls: Larissa and Larris. They were busy with what seagulls do on bright spring nights. Such springtime gull activities eventually lead to an intense urge to build a nest, and the serious talk we had had was obviously forgotten. I felt compelled to put power behind my words and demanded the removal of the illegal structures. After two or three attempts, I realized that stronger measures were needed. A seagull-scaring owl was purchased. 'Greets passersby with blinking eyes and a friendly hoot,' it said on the box. Friendly hoot? By now, we were well past the friendly phase. The owl looked so plastic and unconvincing that I was embarrassed to show it to the seagull. It was never set up, just packed away and forgotten. A ladder with a fluttering red plastic bag seemed to do the job. Now it only covers a small part of the garage roof, but fortunately, it seems that it's exactly that spot which is the only suitable seagull nesting site. For it eventually got through the plumage that the garage roof was terra clausa for nesting. In sheer desperation, Larris set up an emergency nest in a flower box outside the steps. It was high time, because as soon as the last straw was laid, an egg plopped out. Now it may be that they got very busy 'charging' the next egg, and less concerned with taking care of the one they had, for the next morning the egg was gone without a trace. 'What do we do now, little dove?' said Larris. 'Pressure's building up, it's building up, hurry, hurry,' said Larissa. She couldn’t scream out the proper seagull way, because she was afraid the egg would just pop out. Larris understood that there was urgency, so he arranged some straw in the nearest flowerpot so she could relieve herself. And there they lie now, Larissa and their egg. Yes, Larris is diligent and takes his turn incubating too. He has a slightly milder temperament than Larissa. She is more short-tempered, especially if someone surprises her. Otherwise, they have become quite friendly while incubating. Even the cat is quietly tolerated. Well, quietly might be an exaggeration. Using an indoor voice is not something seagulls are good at. But one thing is certain: when the egg hatches, the area will be evacuated fairly quickly. No seagull chicks get to sit in peace until they are capable of flying, and even more so. (I hope)

Update: Today, when we got home from work, a small tragedy had occurred. The seagull was lying on its nest but took off immediately when I swung into the driveway. Otherwise, they have not been so easily disturbed. They have stayed put and incubated diligently even when we stood on the porch just a meter away. Something had happened here, I thought. Then I went up to the porch and saw this:

Life is sometimes quite short – especially a seagull's life that has not yet come out of the shell. We suspect that it might be the magpie that is to blame. It has a nest up in the tree right next to the stairs and has a full view of everything the seagull might be doing. Perhaps it has been lying in wait and struck in an unguarded moment. The misdeed must have happened quite recently, I suppose. Then we'll see what happens next. If the seagull gives up, it lays a new egg in the nest or finds a new nesting place.

Vita brevis, acuta rostro!