The gulls descend on the thrown chips, a ravening hoard, screaming and bellowing they fight for each chip. It would be nice to think that they all get their fair share, but sadly I don’t think they do.
When I walk through the town I see baby seagulls that weaning, they are calling for their parents to feed them, beginning to realise that they are being let loose into the world, their parents next contribution to the gene pool. The call is quite distressing, like all babies crying, very difficult to ignore. Ultimately, hunger will force them to join the mob.
As they say, part of the cycle of life.