The following is a somewhat factual, mostly fictional account of events transpiring over the last few weeks at the Sausalito Yacht Club. Take it with a grain of salt.
(Gull dads and moms take turns sitting on the nest, so it's not clear which parent is pictured here)
Once upon a time, on the edge of a magical bay, lived a pair of seagulls. Their names were Dudley and Dolly. Young, in love, and starry-eyed, it was natural they would want to start a family.
The spot they chose for their nest seemed perfect at the time, but Dudley and Dolly were new at parenting and hadn’t yet learned the three essential rules for building a nest: Location, location, location. They build theirs atop a sign over a gangway inscribed with the legendary words, “Sausalito Yacht Club.” Seemed like a great idea at the time.
The humans were having a pandemic and were staying away. It was springtime and the weather was mild. And there hadn’t been any noisy boat engines or hawks flying over in weeks.
But, after their three eggs were laid, all that changed. The days grew longer and the sun beat down on their nest. The hawks could see right in, and Dudley needed to stay constantly vigilant to ward them off. And the people came back, making life a little more noisy than they’d hoped.
They also learned—the hard way—that the curved floor of the sign was a danger for the eggs, one of which, named See, rolled right off the edge before he even had a chance to hatch.
Ess and Why emerged from their eggs fluffy and healthy, and their parents were overjoyed to watch them grow. As they gained strength, Why (pictured above, left) was the first to stand up and hop around, but, unfortunately, he hopped into a hole in the sign floor and into the water on an outgoing tide.
Maybe he was rescued by another gull family, or washed up on a friendly beach and is doing fine, eating small crabs and minnows, waiting for his flight feathers to grow in, so he can zoom around splattering cars with white guano. Which is why we say, when, we return to our cars after a lovely brunch on the deck to discover bird poop all over our windshield, “Why me?”
And then there was little Ess, seen here being comforted by her Mother after the loss of her siblings.
Ess’s disappearance is a mystery. We had hoped to welcome her into our midst, give her an honorary membership, and feed her French fries from our lunch plates. But we may never learn her fate. Perhaps she caught a ride on a Cal 40 bound for Mexico. Or maybe she’s holding out for the Pacific Cup. Hopefully, she’ll return some day to visit her parents and dive-bomb our outdoor diners.
But now, let’s join in sympathy with Dolly and Dudley and raise a glass to the three chicks who gave us such joy. Here’s to Ess, Why, and See, the legendary chicks of SYC.