Crumbs

 I had been sitting on that poop stained telephone pole too long keeping guard. It the usual evening spectacle: the purple-orange streaks of the setting sun in the sky, scraps of discarded pizza crusts, the barking dogs trotting along the sidewalks with their owners on skateboards, the little kids with their bathing suits rising up into wedgies. The little kids frightened me more than anything.  Then I learned their game. They would sneak up on me and my unsuspecting clan, rush into our crowd yelling “arrrhhhh” like those cliche pirates from the movies. They never tossed tasty saltine crackers, shrimp, or a gentle word.

As soon I as saw one of those sand-covered midgets at a distance, I’d lift myself and soar up and away, perch myself on the street lamp. I’d be safe there. I sounded the call to Harrington and the others as they huddled around grooming their plumage. “Midget in range….flee!” Then they'd all rise us like a canopy of squawking feathers to safety. Then they'd all surround me with praises, like their savior.

One day in September. Harrington, Bugsley, Antoinette  and some others were out on the beach looking for scraps. Leon was at his usual complaining about how hard it is to crack open a mollusk for dinner.  Bugsley and Antoinette perched close together on a metal pipe, it was as if they were "glued at the wing". One was never seen without the other.   I came upon a gang of humans gathered around in a circle to recite prayers. Thankfully it wasn't that annoying drumming circle. I'm not sure what the prayers were; I never considered myself a scholar of religious practice. My father once took me to the Great Mossy Rock to pray to "Jiggles", our clan's spiritual leader. But I never bought into it.  I'm more of an individualist.

I snuck around the back of the crowd, keeping my distance. I was looking for any midgets that might startle our clan. I saw one, dressed in black slacks instead of bathing trunks. He was focused on the prayer. Strange. Another kept tugging at a loaf of bread that a larger human was carrying. The prayer stopped and the group inched toward the wet sand where the waves break. Then they started tossing pieces of bread into the ocean instead of directing it toward our clan as humans usually do. Into the ocean!
"For the sin of selfishness" muttered one man as the crumb flew out of his hand. Yes, that's selfish ness all right.  The clan was waiting patiently for those crumbs.
"For the sin of procrastination" said a woman in a macrame vest that dangled in the water as she bent over and released the bread crumbs with a sigh of relief. I flew over her silvery hair in a bun and snatched that crumb. It a large chunk, soft and warm, not like the usual stale bits around garbage cans.

Bernie hobbled up to me.
"I've seen this before," he said while twirling a twig in his beak. Bernie always did this. He thought it was cool.
"You have?" I replied still savoring that chunk of bread.
"I used to hang out with this old Jewish guy up on the pier." He pointed to the location with his wing. "He did this from the pier every September, just like this gang today. It's a religious ritual...tashlich."
I was impressed by Bernie's sudden knowledge of world religions, but I didn't believe him. He could be a trickster and a showoff.  I didn't have time to chit chat with Bernie. The bread, muffin and cake crumbs kept flying through the air and landed softly on sea foam. It was a shower of baked confetti.

Our clan was out there snatching up whatever they could get. I had to join the mad foray.
Just then a balding man from the crowd stepped out to the edge of the rushing waves, rolled up the cuff of his trousers and tossed half a bagel into the water uttering, "For the sin of infidelity."  Bugsley and Antoinette managed to steal that one. They both grabbed the bagel at the same moment, but Bugsley tugged a little harder and gulped down the half bagel. "So sorry my little starfish," said Bugsley in his most saccharin tone. "Let me make it up to you. I found some fried shrimp and tempura this morning. It's yours."  Antoinette pecked Bugsley on the beak in loving appreciation. Really, those two could be nauseating.

Things were getting heated. Chaotic. Crumbs were dancing though the air and our clan obsessed with devouring every bit. I sounded the alarm with my usual high pitched tweet. "Tweeeeeeerrrrppppp"  was so grating to the ear, everyone knew it meant clear out, return back to the safety spot, the barnacle-covered poles under the pier.

***

It was already morning.  A clam-chowder fog creeped through my nest on a tin roof atop Bubba's Shrimp and Seafood.   Odd. I  didn't recall my watch guard activities of the previous night.  I always woke up in the morning with a crisp memory of my nightly duties. It was time for early morning scavenging. From the strategic location of my nest, I had first dibs on discarded leftovers in greasy styrofoam containers tossed around the back of Bubba's Shrimp and Seafood.   But this morning I didn't care. I didn't care to do a thing...I  just wanted to lay low, relax in my nest. No guarding, no warning calls, no scavenging leftover Ramen noodles, half-eaten prawns, pizza crusts. I would groom my head feathers and polish my beak. I kicked my feet back when I noticed Bernie below on the boardwalk. He was looking up at me. "Twwweeeerp..." He screeched, trying to get my attention. I ignored him.

"Hey, Goe-thee!" he squawked. "Isn't it guard time? You're already two hours late."
I rolled my eyes and continued polishing my beak. Bernie was twirling two twigs in his, as usual. That guy never gave it a rest.
"First, my name's not 'Goe-thee', it's 'Goethe', pronounced 'Gur-teh'.  I mean, how long have you known me?"
Bernie flew up to my nest. He landed too close, but I didn't have the energy to resist his imposing.  "What kind of a name is that for a seagull?" he said while snooping around for some scraps.
Like "Bernie" was any better? I glared straight into his beady eyes, "It's a German poet. My dad found a Goethe quote in a fortune cookie: 'Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Willing is not enough; we must do.'"
"Hmmm...ironic," said Bernie looking at some floating clouds overhead. "You're the one not doing anything. You completely missed guard duty. It's not your day off.
"If you're so worried about it why don't you keep guard." I fluffed up my nest and ignored him hoping he would take off in flight. I wasn't was the in the mood for his banter and bird- brain mind games. I needed a nap.

"Well," he said spreading his wings, "I guess you shouldn't have taken that crumb. For the sin of procrastination.  Then he lifted himself in flight; a light gust of wind carried him straight up, his webbed feet dangling above me. "Very, very interesting, " he shouted from above.  Then I heard him chuckle as he was lifted further away, his wings like an umbrella, like a feathered Mary Poppins.

Normally I wouldn't take to heart anything Bernie said. But that comment about the crumb stuck like chewed gum on the boardwalk. Throughout the day the comment nagged at me, hovering over me. I glanced at my "to do" list etched in the wood planks of the boardwalk." Then I fell asleep. A deep, black hole, pleasant, I -don't -care- about-BERNIE. Just thinking about all my procrastinating was exhausting. "I'll think about my procrastination tomorrow."

Something hit me. I woke up to find a clan member beating me with a stick. "Wake up, Goethe!" Squawked a scrawny one. There were so many, honestly, I was starting to forget their names. His feathers were all ruffled up like he just rolled out of his nest. "Because you didn't  keep guard, those greedy pigeons took over our turf. They took off with worms, shrimp, noodles, everything!"
And have you heard about Bugsley and Antionette?  

End of part one...