My room was on the fourth floor and it did, indeed, have lovely (if somewhat distant and fog-shrouded) views of Portland Harbor.
One was somewhat distracted, however, by the view in the foreground of the second-floor roof.
Which was a regular hangout for, and covered with the waste of, those pestilential herring gulls.
A small drama has been playing out in Rockland recently between an old dingbat who insists on feeding gulls, her neighbors, and the city fathers.
Said dingbat doesn't just toss out the odd crumb every now and again. No. We're talking cases and cases of bread, daily, and a scrum of hundreds of aggressive, defecating, squawking, extremely large birds, which trash not just the dingbat's yard but the neighbors' yards, while the neighbors are trapped in their houses to avoid the noise and mess.
Cars and window screens end up covered in caustic bird droppings. Feathers blanket patios. Small children are carried away bodily.
The city fathers got involved after a series of complaints. A new ordinance was written. The intrepid code enforcement officer has been going deep undercover to ensure compliance. The old lady still believes she is within her rights, so continues to feed the gulls.
Of course after years of daily feedings, the gulls are going to show up in her yard no matter what. Like they stalk fishing boats knowing that old bait is going to be tossed out. They've got used to humans making their wretched lives easier.
(Take this guy, for example. One of many at my Portland aviary which dropped by to nab a drink from the condensation draining off the rooftop HVAC units.)
Now the city is threatening fines of $2,500 per day and the dingbat continues to insist that she has to feed the damn things because - this kills me - she says they don't have anywhere else to go.
To all Rockland herring gulls, if the Camden Street Terrace smorgasbord dries up on you, may I suggest the thriving urban environment (and progressive food scene) 80 miles to the south?
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