Noisenberg!

One of the minigulls has survived long enough to earn a name, and that name is Noisenberg.

The other, I haven’t seen in a while. It’s been a couple of weeks, now, since there’ve been two little gulls on the roof across from mine. That second one probably got eaten. There are eagles in the vicinity. They snack on gulls, here and there.

The remaining gullie brother’s been coming to my balcony almost every day, lately. I don’t want him becoming too tame. To that end, I feed him, and talk to him in a kind and indulgent manner, but when he comes too close, or pokes his head in the window, I shoo him. It wouldn’t do for him to become complacent around human beings. We can be worse than eagles, under the wrong circumstances. Loudenstein, I’m sure, is aware of this already. Noisenberg, who knows? What do gulls learn from their parents? And do they take it all to heart, or do they rebel? One thing Noisenberg has learned beautifully: that irritating alarm call. Gah-gah-gah. Gah-gah-gah. Gah-gah-gah. I could probably throw away my alarm clock. I get that every morning, first thing.

Bird tongue!  Bird tongue!  BIRD TONGUE!  :-)

Bird tongue! Bird tongue! BIRD TONGUE! :-)

Much as I don't want to tame this bird, I took pains to make it understand that the camera is harmless.  Loudenstein flew away, the first few times I tried to photograph him.  Noisenberg did not.  I'd been pointing the lens at him daily, for a week, by the time I dropped the shutter on him.  He barely reacted, when I did.

Much as I don’t want to tame this bird, I took pains to make it understand that the camera is harmless. Loudenstein flew away, the first few times I tried to photograph him. Noisenberg did not. I’d been pointing the lens at him daily, for a week, by the time I dropped the shutter on him. He barely reacted, when I did.

Here, Noisenberg was begging.  Loudenstein was standing just outside the shot, ignoring him.  Eventually, the begging subsided.

Here, Noisenberg was begging. Loudenstein was standing just outside the shot, ignoring him. Eventually, the begging subsided.

I’ve been hearing another bird lately, as well — that little wheep! bird, from last winter. It’s begun cropping up again, taunting me from the bushes on my morning walks. This winter, I’m determined to root it out and identify it. My bird list hasn’t had a new addition, in a while.

Breaking Bird

Although I’m feeling rather healthier, now, I’m still stuck indoors, thanks to neverending rain. It’s been raining forever. Yesterday, the sun came out, and I thought I was free, but when I poked my head out, it was somehow still drizzling from a clear blue sky. Maybe the trees were dripping. Most unsavoury.

On the upside, I had a minigull on my balcony, yesterday, for the first time. It overshot its landing, at first, and sailed straight over the feeder, onto my deckchair. Then, it flapped around in frustration, trying to jump onto the feeder. After two or three abortive leaps, it got with the programme and tried a running start. It seemed to know exactly where the food was, though. And it seemed entirely unconcerned with my presence. Nonetheless, I decided not to take its picture. I wanted it to enjoy its first meal in peace, so it’ll be sure to come back. I want it to get as complacent as Loudenstein, so I can take as many pictures as I want.

In fact, I think it might’ve been to my feeder already, without my noticing. After its clumsy landing, it homed in on the tray awfully fast, and began to eat with absolute assurance. It didn’t even look over at me, till after it had taken its first bite. And when it saw me looking back at it, it didn’t stop to size me up. It’s probably been eating here early in the mornings, while I’m still asleep. It’s probably seen me lots of times, and decided I’m not worth its attention.

And now, for some pigeons:

Could it be?  A pigeon version of the worthless crapbawky?

Could it be? A pigeon version of the worthless crapbawky?

In fact, this pigeon is just at an awkward stage of its regular autumn moult.  Unlike the worthless crapbawky, it's got feathers on its neck.  They just haven't finished sprouting, yet, giving it a somewhat scraggly appearance.  You can't see its crinkly birdskin, when it turns its back.

In fact, this pigeon is just at an awkward stage of its regular autumn moult. Unlike the worthless crapbawky, it’s got feathers on its neck. They just haven’t finished sprouting, yet, giving it a somewhat scraggly appearance. You can’t see its crinkly birdskin, when it turns its back.

This happened outside my window, right at the climax of the "Breaking Bad" finale.  These two pigeons were trying to bump each other off the feeder, battering each other with their wings, nipping each other's heads.  It was distracting, to say the least.  (It was also dark, so I couldn't get a very good picture.)

This happened outside my window, right at the climax of the “Breaking Bad” finale. These two pigeons were trying to bump each other off the feeder, battering each other with their wings, nipping each other’s heads. It was distracting, to say the least. (It was also dark, so I couldn’t get a very good picture.)