POETRY PROMPT
A Lari Chick’s Hungry Hoopla
Don’t blame the gulls for stealing your sandwich.

From the nest, damaged wing,
Was he pushed or did he fall?
Half the speckled fluff ball flaps fine
The other far less than divine
A kind heart rescues
the tot from lone street life
Torn flight mechanism
there’s no escape
No parent gulls to whine to
Force regurgitated morsels
No excited hoots, squawks, croons
When their spawn tests his innate skills
Crying, screaming, screeching
Feed me, feed me, feed me!
Hoopla in the grassy patch
Pitch food you two-legged tree
Feed me, feed me, feed me!
Paddling in a baby bath
Cawing for gulls who never come
Flight testing, no joy.
A plumper pal demonstrates the art
The dejected juvenile opens his flight tools
Despite the unnatural shape of one
He waggles and shakes and rises
Above the lawn a hand’s span
Then plops back down again
Days later it’s a foot high
Still his collarbone pains
Are mum and dad dropping
vomit unnoticed for their Lari chick?
A diet of dog food intermittent
Is adding no fat to his frame
Leave him to fend for himself
The two-legged tree is little help
Forced to independence
This forlorn Lari chick is left to chance.

If gulls had enough food in their natural habitat, they wouldn’t be coming inland unless a storm was brewing.
To stop gulls dive-bombing people eating on the streets, careless or drunk people need to stop dropping their junk food. I’ve witnessed it in Kirkcaldy, a Scottish coastal town.
Higher up the food chain, Britain needs to do more to protect its fishing waters from Russian super trawlers.
Anyone caught feeding a gull in a coastal town will be fined £80. Baby gulls are supposed to be left alone, their parents might be nearby. If the baby gull is touched the parents may reject it.
This young Lari had been in the back garden for over a month. Possibly its parents were feeding it. Possibly my neighbours were. Definitely the creature still couldn’t fly. I didn’t want it to starve to death.
I called The Scottish Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. They came out the same day to rescue the Lari juvenile from the garden at the back of my building.
The wonderful animal and bird rescue officer who came to check said that the bird was thinner than he should be and it was evident his collarbone had been broken. She grabbed the bird by his legs and wing tips — not before he’d thwacked her thumb with his good wing — and took him to her van where she had a comfy nest waiting for him.
I have high hopes that the bird’s collarbone will be treated and when mended the creature will be released in the SSPCA’s National Wildlife Rescue Centre.
Thank you for reading.
This poem is in response to a prompt from Geetika Sethi. Sorry, it’s not a haiku or tanka. You can find out more about the original prompt in her story.
Other projects and prompts.
