I may or may not have saved a baby seagull last night.
A seagull family lives nearby the pool where we are currently staying.
Every day at sunset, the mamma bird comes and brings dinner. She cleans it, softens it up in the pool, eats it and then proceeds to regurgitate it back to the squawking baby. Baby bird goes to sleep in the same pool chair each night while mom perches on a nearby rooftop.
Last night, after a beautiful dinner by the sea, I looked out on the balcony to see two bird silhouettes at the pool. A helpless mother just standing at the edge looking at what appeared to be a lifeless chick in the water.
As we got closer, the mother called out and the dad started circling overhead. No doubt I was about to get hit by some literal angry birds.
We watched and waited along with the helpless mother. No one came to the rescue. All other humans who may have heard or seen something were up at the bar enjoying the evening with no idea of the fate of the helpless birds.
Not wanting to dive in and traumatize all of us, I eventually found a float at the end of the pool and moved the water to push the baby to the other side where it could walk out.
I’m still not sure if this was a midnight swim class, or just a naughty child refusing to get out of the pool.
This bird was living out that meme that all parents of children with Type1 know all too well. Somewhere on the planet, a mom is awake waiting for her child’s blood sugars to come down. Outside of giving insulin, there isn’t much we can do. So we sit at the edge of our own pool and keep watch over our chicks to make sure they don’t drown.
As I sit here writing this, I’m happy to say the baby is sitting contently in its usual spot.
I may or may not have saved a baby seagull, or it may just be a case of caretaker trauma.
Can you relate?
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