A. L. Kaplan

Tag: Seagull

  • Cheloniidae’s Revenge

    “Observe only. Don’t interfere.”

    Those words rung in my head as another baby sea turtle lost its race to the ocean. I bit back the bile in my throat. Waves of seagulls had descended this peaceful beach at dawn, feasting on newly hatched turtles. If it weren’t for the professor and my fellow students behind me, I would have scooped up hatchlings until my arms were full.

    Instead I stood frozen in place. My eyes burned with unshed tears. Poachers we were allowed to stop, but these squawking demons were off limits. One single baby flopped toward the crashing waves. Hope rose in my heart only to be dashed as it was snatched into the air inches from the water. Not a single turtle had made it to the water.

    My eyes clouded over and it felt as though fire burned through my veins. This had to stop. It had to end. Energy twisted inside me, then surged through my bare feet into the sand.

    The gull’s frenzied pitch changed tone within seconds. What had been a turtle massacre changed to a seagull stampede. The flock swooped away from the beach. Their voices seemed to cry out in unison: “Flee! Flee! Flee!”

    Behind me I heard panicked exclamations from the others. I didn’t need to look to know what chased the gulls, but I turned anyway. A smile split my face as a giant flying sea turtle snapped up seagulls in midair. This circle of life was biting back.

  • Feeding Frenzy

    Kara forced herself to remain still, waiting for just the right moment. The seagulls squawked and fought over the diminishing scraps of bread. More of the feathered scavengers circled above, waiting for a chance to dive into the fray. They were pests, brazen creatures who snatched food right out of people’s hands. Kara’s hand to be exact and it had been only inches away from her mouth. She had been too stunned to react then. Well, not today. Today she was ready for the greedy creatures.

    Stealing food in the dead of winter is never good, especially from someone like Kara. Kara was human, but her heart was wolf, part of the pack that had sheltered her after the collapse. The only human she trusted was her mate, Ethan, who crouched on the far side of the snow pile. The two of them lived somewhere between the wilds and the occasional human village. Kara’s nose flared in distaste. The villagers were too wasteful; their refuse drew vermin for miles.

    Nearly twenty birds now fought over the last few crumbs. Signaling Ethan, Kara sprung from her hiding place, moving with the silent precision of a hunter. By the time the gulls noticed the soft hum of the nets it was too late. Ethan and Kara pounced on the birds with small clubs until all was still. Meat to eat, bones for soup, feathers for fletching and pillows, and nineteen thieves who would never steal again. It was a good hunt.