I’ve been interested in the conversations of birds since a day in March 1971, in the churchyard of Hinderwell, a village in North Yorkshire. I had chewed a small square of wallpaper, which had been soaked in LSD. I learned the language of the rooks, almost. But that is a story for another day.
This morning on my way to the supermarket, I became aware of a wheeling seagull above me. We have a lot of them round here, though we’re 70 miles from the nearest coast. They thrive on junk food scattered half-eaten in the street. I noticed a rhythm in the gull-crying. The flying one went “squaak squaaaak” and was answered with a quiet “si” from another gull, whose head projected from atop a chimney-stack. Back and forth, again and again: “Squaak squaaaak”. “Si”—just the single syllable, like a señorita assenting to her lover’s entreaties. For I assumed that the squawking flyer was wooing her, with his airy dance of dash, wheel round and dash again, while she watched and meekly said “Si”. So I looked up at him, and then her, back and forth. I don’t think he liked it. He started to utter two kinds of warning cry. I can’t reproduce them, only my own translation: “Get away!” as he wheeled back and forth; “Or Else!” as he started to dive-bomb me, not yet aiming for the eyes but scary all the same, then swooping back up ready to repeat the performance. It has happened before, same month, same street, in 2006. I wrote it up in a post called Who are you staring at?.
Now, if his spouse was nesting on the chimney-stack, I was no threat to eggs or chicks. So it couldn’t have been that. I think he just didn’t like me being a “peeping Tom” to his love-life and domestic arrangements. So I wasn’t going to carry on watching till he almost poked his beak in my eyes. I turned my back, crossed to the other side of the street. The warning cries and dive-bombing stopped at once.
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I rescued a spider from the bath yesterday. It hadn’t yet fallen in but was hanging by a thread like a would-be suicide on a ledge twelve storeys above the Manhattan traffic. I did the decent thing and put it down gently in a dark corner where it could scuttle away in safety. In the afternoon, the self-same spider (I’d swear to this in a court of law) had constructed a perfect web, anchored from the rim of the tub and the shower-curtain rail. I was a little peeved. This was no way to repay my kindness. In any case there was no point. As far as I’m aware, no flies visit the bathroom. The window stays closed. The door, thanks to a recent oiling of its hinges, always swings shut. A beautiful web was wasted, and could not remain as it blocked entry to the bath. But we respected the intention and workmanship and carefully made sure to leave it undisturbed overnight.
Early this morning, I turned on the bathroom light to find the spider dismantling its creation: recycling the threads by devouring them, till nothing was left of the web. Since then, it has taken up a brooding position on the underside of the shower-curtain rail, where the rings won’t sweep it off its perch. Now what? Like the seagull, it seems ready to fight this one out, sullenly waiting till we cede the bathroom as a no-go area for humans. I’d been expecting gratitude for saving its life, not this.
I’d be better to leave other species alone.
PS July 7th 2017. Seagulls have nested on my neighbour’s chimneypot and are outraged if I so much as go into my backyard, especially if I look them in the eye. They give verbal and visible warnings. There is no way to argue with them about my rights over theirs.
a wayfarer’s notes 
Vincent,
I thought seagulls are peaceful birds like doves, but it sounds a bit like falcons. And I’m surprised that they can live so far away from the coast. 70 miles must be the distance I am from the nearest beach, but I wouldn’t dream of seagulls over my house.
Three or four years ago, I was at the beach in Kamakura with a friend of mine. I think it was spring, so not too many people were there. We sat on a rock and about to each our lunch. She gave me a pork-cutlet sandwich made by the shop named Maisen. It’s my favorite because of their good barbecue sauce. I was about to take a first bite. Something zipped across. “Ouch!” I yelled. I looked at my hand, a little blood ran down from my finger, and the sandwich was gone. The friend said it was a hawk.
I can imagine hawks eat raw meat, but not a barbecue sandwich. My grandfather used to feed a lost hawk who remained in our neighborhood for a while, maybe a week. But the hawk didn’t attack grandfather. He waited patiently on the telephone cable, looking at grandfather walked using a cane and put a piece of meat on top of our bamboo fence. We sat on the veranda and talked about why he doesn’t come down and eat that meat. A little while later, he descended gracefully and picked it up. To me, hawks do not seem the kind of birds to eat barbecue sandwich.
Later, another friend of mine told me it was probably a hayabusa (peregrine) that snatched my sandwich, not a hawk. But, now I’m thinking because of your blog, it could be seagulls. Maybe, they are facing shortage of foods, and they became like crows that eat garbage.
About the photo of the spider and his web, yes, what a workmanship it is! I’m glad you took a photo. It’s gorgeous. He must be a scientist and artist at the same time. And you said he dismantled his web and disappeared? Then, he must be a philosopher.
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Yes, Keiko, I'm sure the spider is a philosophe. Or rather, beyond that, I would say that both gull and spider were angelic messengers for me. The very personal message being “don't interfere”, that is, tread lightly on the face of this earth.
Your anecdotes illustrate how birds interact with human civilization in unexpected ways.
Here we have had in the last twenty years an extraordinary population expansion of a type of hawk that was nearly extinct: the red kite. We live in the Chiltern Hills which they have adopted as home after hundreds of years, but they come into the town too, behaving very differently from the gulls. I've only once seen a kite at ground level: on a fence in the country. Usually they are hovering and gliding quite high, aristocratic compared with the social and noisy gulls, which can wake you in the morning with their raucous cries. Kites whistle softly, like a shepherd to his dog, but the sound carries, too.
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im not going to have another shower there till i know that spiders gone vince
[I had first met my step-brother Michael Charlton on his brief visit to England from New Zealand]
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Vincent, Your opening sounds like the beginning of a novel. I must say, I had so much fun reading this blog. It made me laugh and look on in awe. The image you painted of the señorita and the sounds and communication of the gulls. Fantastic!
The spider looks like a little crab. Both spider and creation—stunning, of course. I didn’t realize that spiders dismantled their webs by devouring them.
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I don't know if they do or not devour them Rebb. I know they can, but I can't see the webs at all in the bathroom, only by flash photography and guessing by the movements.
This morning I saw it again, dangling from the ceiling. A photograph revealed it had built a new web, just as grand as the last one, attached to the ceiling and my bath-towel. This time I put it out the back door, near to where I've planted the lucky clovers. Consider the spiders: they spin, but oft in vain. Will it, against all good sense, find its way back to the bathroom for a third attempt?
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Michael, it has gone for now. Feel free to drop by unexpectedly for a shower. We'll deal with it as and when!
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Vincent, It is interesting that you mentioned conversation with birds. I have had some interesting experiences and experiments of my own in this direction that will need a whole new post in my blog about it.
With insects, I just pick them up on a stiff piece of paper and leave them out in the garden. However, I kill cockroaches inspite of the violence involved because self defence is a must too and my principles of non-violence have such exceptions. I have figured that if not elminated they will just move back indoors or into the neighbors home and continue to multiply.
I am friends with ants though and usually let some roam around the house.
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What a satisfying read! I remember that earlier post in 2006, was only shocked that it was so long ago. I don't see seagulls here, 25 miles from Lake Michigan, but there are many there, and at the other Great Lakes too. But then – not too many fishermen to steal from inland!
I tried a few times to make peace with hunting spiders in my home. They prowl the upper corner of the walls, mostly, near the ceiling. Then one day something tickled the back of my neck as I was typing, I rubbed, got a ferocious bite – and smacked dead the spider biting me. I've always been afraid of them indoors, and since then – no mercy. If I can get them outside I will, otherwise…. well… RIP. They test my willingness to share space too far beyond my comfort zone. The only insect I deliberately and willingly kill here are ticks. They carry disease and I'm not willing to be a blood donor.
Next year I hope to get a flock of guinea hens. They think ticks are tasty morsels, absolutely top notch snacks.!
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I carefully place all visiting spiders either on a windowsill or somewhere outside. As you found, and no doubt it did eventually, there's no spider food in most domestic settings.
How nice to be repaid for your kindness with the glorious web, and it cleaned up after itself.
As for gulls, they are plentiful where I live, we even get smaller ones cooing and squawking down our chimney. I much prefer pigeons and doves, they do not sound like screeching fishwives.
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The spider will starve in your bathroom. Now, that´s cruel revenge, Vincent.;-) Hope it doesn´t bite you.
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No, Luciana. As I commented above, “This morning I saw it again, dangling from the ceiling. A photograph revealed it had built a new web, just as grand as the last one, attached to the ceiling and my bath-towel. This time I put it out the back door, near to where I've planted the lucky clovers.”
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keiko, I used to try to go down to the SF bay to eat lunch sometimes – I say I “tried” to, because it was a precarious business and depended on the seagulls in the area and their appetite. They dive bomb and try to steal your sandwich in a very determined way, much like your hawk did. They frighten me. I don't like to have food with me when they're around.
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Lu,
While you were away, Vincent has changed. As I have been closely reading his words, I would say that he has become an angel! He revealed to me that sometimes, he has to fire us up for good of the world. Right, Vincent?
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Hayden,
I see it's the same situation in SF. Yes, it's scary. Besides, we don't want to lose our lunch. We need to be careful and let others know this because I just leanred this not too long ago. So, probably, there will be more victims.
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Ashok, you have had conversations with birds? I said I was interested in the conversations of birds, that is, between them. But I look forward to a post in which you may describe any attempt at conversations with them. Are you talking about parrots, mynah birds or others which can imitate human voice?
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Oh no, Keiko, if that is so, I´m a little sorry. I used to like his human version better than his angelical one.
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Lu,
That's too bad, but it's too late. Vincent is definitely on angelical side. He is interested in bird conversation. Angels have wings.
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Oh, all right, I guess.As long as we don´t have to fly too high to reach him 😉
Vincent, I hope you don´t mind our little playful joking here. It´s part of our computer friendship.
Honestly, If I were you I´d have killed that spider. But I´m not an angel.
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Vincent,
Coincidentally, during my clutter cleaning, I was going to get rid of a book edited by Paul Heiney called, “Can cows walk down stairs? Perplexing questions answered.” But before tossing it in the give away pile, I flipped through it and there I saw a few small snippets on spiders. A few interesting tidbits from the book (pg. 91):
-Even though we may not see it, spiders always leave a silken thread behind them which they use as a lifeline if they fall, or as a guide to find their way back to where they came from. These threads are abandoned after being produced and one can often see the scale of this silk production in the early mornings after a heavy dew…”
-Spiders do eat their own silk to recycle the proteins and to ingest any pollen caught on the sticky spiral. This is an important protein supplement for immature spiders.
I wonder if your bathroom is drafty. The book says this about web creation (a slightly humorous way of putting it) (pg. 89):
“Unfortunately spiders can't shoot a web like Spiderman can. Instead, they are to make use of the wind. The spider hangs on a thread until it is caught by a gust of wind and carried to another place where it can attach the other end. Once this first thread is in place the rest of the web is easier.
This must apply to an outside setting. Of course, in a room, the spider can walk around. Silly me.
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Luciana, I could never kill a spider, but it's based on a superstition that one should not kill spiders. Actually I am most reluctant to kill anything though for example the leaves of my transplanted four-leaved clovers are being eaten quite severely by something. My feeling is that the garden I cultivate welcomes wildlife without distinction, and doesn't kill.
So I am looking for alternative methods of reducing these predatory pests. I must strengthen the soil, for example, with home-rotted compost.
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Rebb, I knew that about spiders in the open air. Our bathroom isn't draughty but as you say, the spider can navigate between various surfaces. Ceiling, wall, the rail which supports the shower curtain.
I think all creatures are stupendously intelligent, but nature is imperfect and gets us wasting time, for example making webs where no flies will come, wasting time and energy in sexual intercourse when there is no chance of conception etc. Of course I am rather grateful for the latter.
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Keiko, I never thought of any connection between angels, birds and bird conversations, till you mentioned it. The angels I encounter don't have wings, or more precisely are formless. They are detected mainly by the magical sense of an alternative reality, and the invariable aim of their interventions—to do good. See Hayden's post and comments thereon.
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