Somewhere, in the dimness of their gullie minds, the minigulls seem to recognise flight as a possibility. They’ve begun to flap their wings (which, at this stage of development, are really just fuzzy arms), and make practice runs at the sky. Of course, they’re nowhere near being able to take off. Today alone, I’ve watched them crash headfirst into their parents, each other, and the railing. Good thing they’re well-padded, with all that childish fluff. They don’t seem any the worse for wear.
Although they’ve yet to wander far from the nest, they’ve been popping into view much more frequently, since their first shy appearance. They’ve become more confident on their legs. Soon, I hope, curiosity should bring them closer; I’m dying for a proper look. Surely they’d like to explore the roof, now they’re not falling flat on their faces, every few steps!
I hope the railing will prove high enough to keep them on the roof, till they’re as confident on their wings as they’ve become on their legs. If not, I hope they can survive the three-storey tumble. Ideally, of course, they’d plop onto somebody’s balcony. Otherwise, there are bushes to break their fall, if they come off the roof on the garden side. On the street side, there’s nothing but stone. Let’s hope they stay away from the street side. There are a lot of dogs, down there, and at least one feral cat.