BIRDS 6

Here in the UK, the luminous yellow reflective jacket is the new uniform of choice for the wannabe Stasi or Gestapo functionary, and other aspiring goons. Alongside the snoopers, informants, finers, interveners, and 'community police', a new squad in Aldeburgh will now also have to be decked out in said jackets in order to enforce a stringent new policy against those that would dare feed the local seagulls.

It's enough to compel you to initiating a nationwide campaign to start chumming the birds with raw meat. Resistance to the oppression begins here, with the gulls leading the way.

In the meantime, I am once again most grateful to Lorin for sending this moving anecdote:

When I was very young (five or six years old), I had two parakeets, a male and a female, who I named Biff and Plumas. They were little splashes of bright color, so, so cute in a way one can only appreciate before the age of ten or after the age of 30. I would open the cage to let them flap around the house a bit and they would return to the cage in five minutes or so. Knowing what I know now, they both would have flown away forever had they not been purchased at the most sickening of all retail spots, the 'pet store' where birds have their wings clipped to keep them seemingly domesticated but ultimately crippled and reliant on the cage.

I recall the day Plumas died. I had a ceremonial shoebox burial in my family's backyard. The strongest memory, though, was Biff's mourning. I am not abusing the word; he had an actual, visible mourning. He lingered upon the place in the cage where my mother found Plumas dead, he refused to eat anything, even sesame treats, and he heaved pained, horrible coos that sounded EXACTLY like human crying. Not a pleasant memory, by any means, but at an early age learned that a bird is capable of (and imbued with) the kind of dynamic passion that humans stupidly mislabel as 'feelings', or worse, 'a soul'.

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PIGS

The latest worldwide health panic of a deadly strain of swine influenza emanating from Mexico ties in neatly with the talk of the seagulls' covert attempts at world domination. The question that I was wondering was, when human predatory hegemony is finally usurped, which of the species will be responsible and how will they go about achieving it? Indeed, can we already see signs of this happening?

Before attempting to answer that, I'd like to grasp the nettle of anthropomorphism. It's a measure of the arrogance of the human animal that other species always analogously come off worse - either we pompously bestow the finest qualities of other creatures upon ourselves, or else denigrate them with our worst habits and faults. The latter especially with the most undeserving of our derogation: the pig.

Expressions such as pig-headed, pig ignorant, eat like a pig, like a pigsty, pig out, sweat like a pig are not only unfair, but plain wrong. The pig is a beautiful, intelligent, clean, friendly animal that deserves a lot better respect. To use pig as an insult towards some fucking turd of a human being is an outrageous affront to the pig.

FISH
Unless the entire planet becomes flooded leaving but two small uninhabitable archipelagos where the Himalayas and the Andes are now located, I can't conceive a way that water-dependent creatures could have any effect upon the land-dwellers. However, our species did evolve from the sea, so perhaps something unforeseen will emerge from the depths in tens of millions of years' time. It's been said that sharks (and indeed roaches) would survive all-out nuclear destruction - so they are a candidate for survival in the case of a land-based apocalypse.

BUGS
The survivability of the cockroach has already been mentioned - they are amazingly cunning and extremely resistant to human attempts at ridding their number from apartment blocks and dodgy restaurants. I'm sure they can also understand rudimentary human speech. Mosquitoes and other airborne insects with a propensity for feasting on blood have enormous potential for eliminating entire species through the transmission of disease. If they can learn to adapt to colder climates, then they must surely be considered serious candidates.

MAMMALS
Whilst there are clearly many mammals that are far more sentient and intelligent than the human species, I personally don't rate their chances in an unforgiving environment alongside so many other predatory mammalian foes. However, a cross-breed transmission of a deadly virus (as attempted by monkeys, 'mad' cows, and now pigs) could sooner or later reap a huge apocalyptic pandemic jackpot.

BIRDS
Birds generally have huge advantages that we fail to notice at our peril. The aforementioned example of the seagull, in particular, is highly mobile across water, land and of course upwards into the sky; it can feed upon almost anything; they are not preyed upon (human attempts at curtailing their number have not proven successful); potentially adaptable to any environment on the planet; and finally, possessors of an uncanny instinct and intelligence combined with seriously aggressive intent.

BIRDS 2

When Melanie Daniels sits waiting in front of a children's climbing frame, with each masterfully timed shot, we witness the crows gathering menacingly on the bars behind her, and the sense of fear is exacerbated by our seeing what she does not, to the soundtrack of an ominously low electronic hum.

If you type 'aggressive seagulls' (or somesuch wording) into your search engine of choice, it becomes apparent that this scene is portentous. Gulls are not only becoming increasingly bold and adept at snatching people's food, but are now invading inland areas on a worldwide scale. They have developed a taste for junk food (in fact, they're pretty much omnivorous), and seem to deliberately target sweaty overweight badly dressed humans, relieving them of their greasy take-aways and snacks. Not to mention other reported attacks on men of the cloth, and dubious 'performance artists'.

Look deep into the gull's beady eyes, and you see reflected this keen sense of focus, this refined purpose, a zealotry of dark intent. And it's all happening behind our backs and there's nothing we can do about it. Today a cheekily snatched french fry, slice of pizza, or ice cream cone - tomorrow they'll be pecking a man's eyes out and gorging on live human flesh. In their millions. What a delicious almost divine irony for the human race.

BIRDS 1

BIRDS

Last summer on vacation, there was a marvellous moment on the passenger ferry back to Oban from the beautiful island of Mull. As the passengers from the stern enjoyed the rays of early evening sun spectacularly piercing dark clouds over distant isles, a couple of seagulls demonstrated some amazing aerial techinques. Whilst flying at the speed of the vessel, they were able to hover with enough precision to pluck with their beaks the french fries from outstretched hands. It was clear that, even for the gulls, this was a skill requiring considerable practice as several younger birds, equally hungry, were not quite able to successfully snatch the proffered morsels.

In the lovely town of Oban itself, the gulls are equally rapacious, swooping in to within inches in their attempts to grab a chunk of your tasty fresh fish takeaway supper. They are surprisingly intimidating creatures close up and, without their usual timidity, it's all too easy to feel like Tippi Hedren in an outtake from Hitchcock's classic The Birds. Likewise, here are are some dramatic images of seagulls fearlessly snatching people's ice cream.

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Our relationship with birds is a complex one. Wonderfully portrayed in the Greek myth of Icarus is the desperate human vanity which is characterised by attempts to transcend our mortal roles through the power of flight in order to become closer to gods. And our attempts at flying, still such a powerful ingredient to our inner dreams, would more often than not - over the ages - have the same disastrous outcome as befell the young Icarus himself, who had only his arms to flap as the wax holding his feathers in place melted as he foolishly got too near the representation of that most important of pagan gods, the sun. The proverbial fall from grace. Man's dream of being able to fly like a bird is in fact a consistent part of the most ancient myths and religions; almost all ancient art features bird/man hybrid images, including in prehistoric caves dating back around 20 millennia.

My own romantic theory is that the desire to fly like a bird is far older than man itself, and originates with our ancestors the apes, who, upon meeting birds as they acrobatically climbed up into the treetops, would enviously dream of flying high in the sky to enjoy the real and metaphorical freedom that such an ability would offer. We have inherited this profound wish, and it is still hardwired into our very soul. It's as if vertigo itself was the fear of our deepest desire to simply leap from a great height and glide effortlessly through the air, thus finding release from the gravitational pull that is our lifelong burden.

The essence of this notion is wonderfully encapsulated in Project X (1987), a movie about chimpanzees used in life-threatening experiments to test the G-forces experienced in military jet aircraft. Despite many funny moments, at times it's quite an upsetting film to watch, yet culminates in my favourite film ending ever. Beautiful and uplifting in every sense of the word.