Hello my dear reader and welcome to Chez Comb I hope I find you well and in good heart. What a wonderful week of good weather we have had here in North Yorkshire. I know we English bang on about the weather a great deal - we are renowned for it - and that's because we get an awful lot of it. We never quite know from one hour to the next what will come our way and believe me, when it's a week of glorious sunshine we go about smiling and exclaiming about it until the cows come home.
It has been a very quiet week here at Chez Comb as spouse has been away every day. He's a volunteer driver for a charity that takes folk for medical appointments, be they near or far - and this week they were far. Like the buses, you can wait for one to come along and then three come at once and so the appointments came in for spouse, every day this week and all long distance. So my dear reader, marital harmony has been at its peak , spouse has departed at the crack of dawn and returned tired and hungry at dusk.
I have been keeping the home fires burning so to speak, well - not actually burning as it's too hot, but I have been keeping hearth and home together as the electrician, plumber and carpet fitter have all called and done their work to finish off our summer sitting room, had tea and biscuits and departed. In between these gents and my domestic goddess duties I have been working in the garden with an inconsolable Simon seagull trailing in my wake.
Simon seagull entered our lives at the beginning of last winter along with his mate Sophie. Now the seagulls that have made their homes in and around our Yorkshire Wolds village usually perch on the roof and chimney tops, talking and squawking animatedly together and generally keeping well away from us humans on the ground. They might deign to come for a drink at one of our bird baths and snaffle the odd worm or two from the lawn, but that's it - at the slightest movement glimpsed from within the house, they are off like little white rockets.
Simon is different as seagulls go. I cannot describe him as bold. Seagulls living on the coast become accustomed to us humans being around and develop a boldness of spirit that can extend as far as being food thieves - hence all the notices, 'please do not feed the seagulls.' Simon arrived in our garden one winter's day and from the first he was a gentleman among seagulls, gentle, kind, never greedy and always grateful. On that first day after cautiously doing a recce of the garden, he invited his mate Sophie to hop up on to the bird bath and get a drink whilst he kept watch. Only after she had slaked her thirst did Simon take his turn. After this he turned his attention to the bird seed set out on a plastic plate on the lawn, meant for the blackbirds and robins that cannot cling to the bird feeders hung from the trees. Again, after cautiously inspecting the goods and checking no predators lurked nearby, Simon stepped back and watched over Sophie whilst she ate.
This was the start of our friendship with Simon and Sophie. They came every day, usually twice a day for food and drink and gradually over the winter months they became less wary of us and started to trust us, not flying off at our approach and even getting to used to spouse as he dug out old tree roots, preparing for his new shed base. We began to leave them seagull treats out - bits of fish went down a storm In the depths of winter when insects were scarce. When we looked out on frosty mornings, Simon and Sophie would be hanging around hopefully in the garden. How could we resist? Spouse was out of the door with a generous seagull breakfast whilst I prepared ours indoors.
Simon and Sophie have been our delight all through the winter and early spring. We have watched them quite obviously arguing and falling out with each other, Sophie flying off to perch on a different roof and chattering away indignantly, whilst Simon chunters away to himself on ours. Eventually though the quarrel is forgotten and they get back together, so obviously glad to be reconciled and a lot of joyful wheeling around the skies ensues.
With the coming of spring we were looking forward to welcoming Simon and Sophie's chicks and laid in some gastronomic seagull delights. But it is not to be, there will be no chicks this year as Sophie is no longer with us. We don't know what happened, whether a cat or some other country predator caught her unawares on the ground, but our lovely Sophie is dead. I came downstairs one morning long after spouse had departed on his hospital driving mission, to hear Simon frantically shrieking down the bottom of the garden. Something was obviously amiss. I was too late to be of any help to Sophie. She had gone and Simon was distraught.
I have buried Sophie in the garden. I shed many tears as I went about my work, with Simon watching intently, softly squawking and crooning all the while. Seagulls mate for life and he is inconsolable. He nibbles in a disinterested way at the choice fishy morsels I try to tempt him with and sits dull-eyed for hours on our roof. eschewing the company of the other seagulls all around him. When I work in the garden he is with me and my heart breaks for him.
What of the future for Simon? I know not. How long will his grief last? Will he find another mate? This remains to be seen. Meanwhile I will do my best to keep him company through the summer as I go about my garden wrecking and re-building. I feel very privileged to share his company and his grieving. Love and loss go hand in hand. I hope Simon will love again one day.