Freddie

Spencer was a seagull who thought he ruled all of the estate he frequented. Year after year he nested with his partner, Wendy, and they made beautiful babies together. They always nested on top of the same roof…the Murphy’s roof.

The Murphy’s lived in a modest four bedroomed, semi-detached, red brick house. Spencer was constantly strutting down their back yard and shitting on their car. He hated Mr Murphy. Every time he even sensed that he was in the vicinity, he took to the air to swoop down upon him frightening the living shite out of him. Mr Murphy would run from tree to tree all the way down the estate until he got home just to avoid getting stitches.

Spencer was vicious, but he wasn’t backwards in coming forwards either. Mrs Murphy was doing the dishes one day and heard, ‘tap, tap, tap’ coming from somewhere. She stopped in her tracks and listened intently, but the tapping had stopped. She resumed her evening chores when she heard it again, ‘tap, tap, tap’. She looked out the window and saw nothing so she called Mr Murphy in to see if he could hear it. Mr Murphy jumped out of his skin, as there was Spencer on the back step tapping at the glass door.

As Mr Murphy ran for cover, even though there was no chance of him needing stitches in his own home, Mrs Murphy dealt with Spencer, shooing him away with a broom. When she had gotten rid, she went into the sitting room where Mr Murphy was lying on the couch with a cushion protecting his head…Mrs Murphy could do nothing but laugh at how ridiculous her husband was being.

Spencer deemed especially vicious during the mating season. Mr Murphy just couldn’t believe that Wendy came back year after year to the greatest prick, if there ever was one.

In May of 2020, Mr Murphy made the mistake of leaving the back door open as he put the clothes on the line because it was a particularly nice day and he loved the smell the fresh air gave to the clothes. His eyes were constantly darting towards the roof…but no Spencer. He was so proud of himself, as there were times he ended up locking himself in the shed, that he began to whistle a happy tune. The second he reached the step to the back door, his heart jumped into his mouth and his stomach felt as though a ton weight had been dropped into it…. Spencer was on the kitchen table.

With no Mrs Murphy around for at least an hour, Mr Murphy had to do something. He swallowed down his vomit and entered the house, Spencer flapping his wings…he was a big boy. Mr Murphy edged his way around the kitchen, hugging the cabinets as he went, thinking that if he got to the cupboard with the broom, he’d have a better chance of getting the little git out of his home. Spencer watched with his beady eyes as Mr Murphy edged his way ever closer to his prize. Eventually, ten minutes later, Mr Murphy reached the broom and started to wave it around like an open umbrella. Spencer stared at him with an evil gaze, but Mr Murphy stuck to his guns and kept swinging the broom edging ever closer to Spencer with each passing. Eventually, Spencer shit all over the table, and Mrs Murphy’s half-finished jigsaw puzzle, and left the house. Mr Murphy ran to the back door slamming it shut. He locked it and fell to the ground and cried into his cupped hands until Mrs Murphy arrived home. She took one look around and was more concerned about the state of her jigsaw than her husband.

Now the Murphy’s were well aware that Spencer was a dick, but never in their wildest dreams did they think he could turn on one of his own. They had been down the country for the weekend visiting Mr Murphy’s parents and when they arrived back, Freddie was sitting on the step in front of the porch.

Freddie was one of Spencer’s offspring who obviously didn’t make the cut. The couple presumed that that git had nudged him out of his cosy nest and off of the roof. They presumed that he had been there for a couple of days due to the number of droppings that were collected on the step. At first, Mr Murphy froze. Mrs Murphy gently hit him on the arm and reminded him that he was only a baby and couldn’t yet fly. Nonetheless, Mr Murphy donned a hat and cautiously got out of the car. When Mrs Murphy gently approached Freddie to see if he was hurt, he stood up and squawked helplessly. She put her hand out to touch him, but being his father’s son, he tried to nibble on her fingers.

‘I’ll get the broom!’ Mr Murphy started to panic, but Mrs Murphy stopped him. She knew his fear of seagulls was plausible and didn’t lack merit, but she was determined to change his way of thinking that not all gulls were like Spencer. Mrs Murphy attempted to touch Freddie one last time and could feel him trembling just with one finger on his wing. Mr Murphy saw that and his heart melted. He inched closer and, under strict instructions from his wife, touched the little guy. He shuddered at first but when he thought about it rationally, this was a baby who doesn’t know how to fly, probably doesn’t know how to eat, and was sitting on their front porch asking for help. Mr Murphy was sold…’help is what he shall get!’ he mumbled to himself.

Before bringing in the bags, Mr Murphy took it upon himself to get an egg cup and fill it with water for the little guy to drink from. Well, he wasn’t that little, but compared to Spencer, he had a lot of filling out to do. Mr Murphy put down the egg cup and inched it close enough to Freddie that he could get to it without getting up. He was one thirsty baby! Mr Murphy took a mental note that the next time he should bring a bigger vessel.

Once he had all of the water drunk, Freddie slowly got to his feet and waddled into the bushes that surrounded the driveway. Mr Murphy went to inspect the home his new friend had picked, and he approved of the spot. It was not too visible for cats or other vermin, and it had a cover over him so he could feel as though he was in his nest. ‘Yes,’ Mr Murphy nodded, ‘I think he’ll be ok there!’

Mr Murphy was a massive gamer and loved nothing more than immersing himself in a make-believe land full of characters you would never come across in the real world, but the next day when he went to play a game all he could do was look at poor Freddie who was back on the front step. He commenced playing Assassins Creed Origins and wanted to be Bayek of Siwa but paused his game and moved closer to the window where he saw Spencer fly down to his son. Freddie looked up at him and even though the poor little guy was sitting down, Spencer tipped him over and flew away.

Mr Murphy was pissed and ran to the front door where Freddie had decided he wanted to perch and helped the little guy up. Yes, he got pecked for it, but it was only a pinch and Mr Murphy thought it to be affectionate. Once he was content that Freddie wasn’t too frightened, Mr Murphy got into his head that even though Spencer doesn’t want poor Freddie, he will still be looked after adequately. This was his one way to standing up to Spencer.

Mr Murphy rang the DSPCA, but they didn’t take in seagulls. Then he tried ringing the vets to see if they could help, and after reaching a dead end, he googled what baby seagulls liked to eat. When he put it into the search engine, the first thing that came up was broken up cherios. Mr Murphy smiled when he read that as cherios were his favourite breakfast cereal. He put his hand into the open box on the counter, open only because he forgot to put them away after his breakfast, and took out a handful. He put them onto a tea towel and folded the tea towel over them before hitting them with a rolling pin. He took out a bowl from the top shelf of the press that was full of chips. Mrs Murphy was somewhat of a hoarder and believed that that bowl was destined to serve a purpose which is why she had kept it. When he was up there, he got another chipped bowl for water.

Unable to tell whether Freddie could eat out of a bowl, and being that there were a lot of ground up cherios in his hand, Mr Murphy decided to scatter some into the layer Freddie had chosen. He left then left the rest of them and the water bowl side by side right up next to the curb Freddie had to hop over in order to get to the food that would hopefully sustain him. Mr Murphy went back to his game, sporadically pausing it to see if Freddie was enjoying his breakfast.

Mrs Murphy had to calm Mr Murphy down over the course of the next few days. She didn’t want him to get too attached to the little guy as the place was crawling with cats. Yet every day, Mr Murphy put out cherios and water, and every day they were eaten.

Freddie was visibly filling out and Mrs Murphy tried with all her might to urge him into the back garden, where he would be safer…he just ignored her, obviously after inheriting his father’s stubbornness.

As of 24^th June 2022, Freddie is alive and well and enjoying his cherios.

picture from pixabay