This is a question which has been on my mind this week.

As someone who lives in a seaside town, I know all too well, the dangers and nuisance seagulls can bring.

When Dearest Son was very young and still using his little pushchair, we were going about town doing something or other which I can’t remember now. It was probably more of a ‘it’s sunny, let’s get out for air’ sort of a day. The thing is, Dearest Son had a little sandwich in his hand which he was thoroughly enjoying – until a bloody big seagull swooped down and grabbed it. As my little toddler sat in shock, looking at the crust left in his hand, I grabbed the remaining bread and threw it out onto the ground for fear of another strike.

Since that day, I have seen locals and tourists alike being swooped on, followed and, yes, I will call it attacked, for their food. It’s a scary experience. One man I remember, was actually followed up one whole street, with a particular bird constantly swooping at his head, trying to get whatever food he was holding.

Added to that, the noise they make – especially in the summer months. Try getting a decent lie-in with the windows open. You can’t. They seem to have calls for everything. From alarms to ‘Hiya Jock’, they scream them all out.

For the last month or so, I’ve encountered a different side to their swooping. The one they do when they have young and you dare to walk on their street. I say ‘their’ street because at this precious time, it most certainly is theirs. For the last few years, a couple of streets have become no-go areas for our dog walks due to the onslaught of dive-bombing seagulls who desperately try to warn us off, despite the fact we show no signs of aggression towards their young. I have been unlucky enough to have made contact with a bird’s feet on my head on more than one occasion and I didn’t enjoy it. They are pretty big birds when you get close to them.

But that brings me to a side of their personality which I actually admire. Their parenting.

Despite all attempts to stop them nesting on roof-tops, they still manage. Despite egg removal programs, their numbers seem steady. I have often wondered about their choice of nest building as they don’t seem to build nests big enough for the size of their offspring but it never changes.

There are a couple of houses across the road from us which have nesting birds every year. I see them taking time to carefully build their family home, high up from people and their dogs or children. High up where they can keep an eye on all our comings and goings. Then eventually, we start to hear the high pitched ‘peep’ which goes out constantly, signalling that the eggs have hatched and now the babies want fed – all the time!

The house across from us had 2 little fluffy grey heads pop up a few weeks ago and we have been watching them progress, gradually getting bigger until it’s time to learn to fly. Some years, you’ll find a very small bird wandering around, after falling out of the nest but this year, they seemed to get down on their own volition.

Only last week, I was watching the 2 of them (under their parent’s careful observation), wandering around and in and out of gardens which had open gates. It was actually lovely to watch them.

And so, yesterday, when I saw one of the young lying dead on the pavement, I admit I was saddened. Much more saddened than I had expected to be.

We get a lot of deliveries in this street and not every body drives slowly. Visitors, too, drive to the end of our cul-de-sac at unwise speeds. Quite what had happened or who hit the wee bird, I’ll never know but it made me wonder.

What does the other little bird feel now, as it wanders around the gardens or learns to fly on it’s own, without it’s companion? Are the seagull cries I hear now, the same warning signals as before, or are there mixed in amongst them, the mournful cries of parents at losing one of their young?

And so I wondered: Can a seagull grieve?