Folktale Week 2021: Bird//Seagull
Day five of Folktale week is Bird and ironically this is the only prompt I found difficulty in thinking of a…bird! Birds are so heavily documented in Folklore that picking one at random was going to be impossible. So, I said to myself, the next bird I see will be the focus of this story. Living in Swansea by the sea, it was inevitable that the next bird I saw was a Seagull. Seagulls in Welsh folklore are mostly linked to telling the weather, but out to sea these birds, like the albatross, take on quite an eerie role. Thought to have been the souls of dead sailors, or those who drowned, to kill one conjured terrible bad luck and/or death (like most birds in Folklore I’m discovering!). I decided to set this very short dialogue-based story on land, on a bus, in South Wales.
So, I’m sat on the back of the bus right, after fishing with John, and no word of a lie, a seagull flies square through the window opposite me – rammed itself through the tiny gap - and it bloody sits down in the seat under it. In the corner, you know? Yeah, seriously! Full grown seagull mate. And I’m thinking, surely someone else has noticed this? But no one has a clue! To be fair, the bastard bird was pretty quiet and you couldn’t see it over the chair. Anyway, it’s staring at me like non-stop, freaky like. It’s like it knew I had bait in my bag and was squaring up to me for it. Kept stepping over, one – foot? – at a time. Yeah, they were webbed like, gross. But only doing like one slow step at a time, really fucking horrible. I shouted bloody seagull back here! to the rest of the bus but honestly now, everyone ignored me. Headphones on, or just couldn’t be arsed like I dunno. Nah, drive didn’t hear me I dun’ think. Anyway, I’ve got myself trapped now because this mangy bastard is right next to me, blocking my way out. Didn’t have a clue what to do mate! I was waving my arms at it to scare it but nothing, absolutely nothing - made of steel it was. Then! - It fucking pecked me! - No word of a lie! – Look, see! Yeah mate, proper took a chunk out. So, what could I do like? I slammed it with my bag – No! No one even flinched like! WHACK, and nothing. I clipped it right in the face, smashed it against the back of the chair. Nah, not straight way I had to get 3 blows in before it was limp enough to push on the floor. Yeah, rank like! Had to scrub my bag when I got in. Nah I just got off the bus, even though the pissing bell by me didn’t work – some old woman at the front was getting off the same stop. I said to the drive, I said – pal there’s a dead seagull at the back, maybe you should keep an eye on what’s occurring on your own bus isit?? Mate, not a fucking word! Lucky I bounced as quick as because he almost shut the door on me, genuine! Worst thing is though, the second I stepped off the bus a fucking seagull shat on me. They’ve got it in for me mate, I tell ‘ew.
‘Seagulls, which hover restlessly over the waves and the shore, were thought by those who work on the water to be the spirits of the drowned…and it brought bad luck to kill one. Fisherman…once believed that they were transformed into seagulls when they died, and if one of these birds came knocking against the window pane, it was a warning of some danger…’
From, Discovering the Folklore of Birds and Beasts by Venetia Newell.
