Birds and Kids

So, last night I drove north 45 minutes to the tip of Lake Michigan. It was like a date for me from me, because Ryan, although he was entertaining via text, had some FFA/4H thing to coordinate down in Indy. I can never keep the events straight.
I stopped at Jimmy Johns, got the #12, drove the remainder of the way to the beach, and began snapping pictures immediately. There's nothing more oxy-moronic about seeing a full-fledged beach next to the colorful array of trees in Fall. It's like mixing tropical with seasonal, and it doesn't work...except that it does.
Yeah yeah, I get it. THIS is why all the Michiganders at Dordt kept gloating (right word?) ...praising, rather... the landscape around here. Because it truly is beautiful.
Moms and dads walked along the shoreline each grabbing the hand of a child. The sun had begun to set and so I walked a ways away from the crowd. They would become silhouettes in the pictures I was about to take. That's legal, right?
Seagulls, one in particular, had begun surrounding me and my Jimmy Johns #12. They are demanding. The birds I mean. The one kept one eye on me at all times, and so I had no other choice. I had to watch it back. It wanted my sandwich. I wanted it dead, but I'm not sure that's legal either.
I began taking pictures of the moon just over a sand dune and then pointed my lens to the crowd with their umbrellas and kites, but was distracted by another squak from the bird.
I waved my shoe at it.
It ran about ten yards away and then came back about fifteen.
"This isn't yours!" I wanted to say, but it was a bird, so talking would be of no help. And anyway, I don't think they understand English. (right Heidi?) Talking to it would be crazy, I thought as I duly noted a couple sitting on a sand dune a ways out. They were watching the scene.
I waved my shoe at it again. It ruffled its feathers.
Who did this bird think it was? I'm a human and could definitely...possibly...overtake this bird. Didn't it think it was in danger? Was it too comfortable with humans? Had it flown over from Chicago for a weekend getaway to manipulate naive strangers from the country?
Anyway, I didn't give in or toss it a piece becaust that would have made it beg for more. You give 'em and inch, they take a knell, right? Instead I waited for it to get over itself and eventually look elsewhere for food. There was a whole state-sized lake full of fish, so I didn't feel bad.
The date from me for me continued, but only for a little bit. A kid had stopped to stare at me reading One Day, but he only watched for a little bit until his mother grabbed his hand and said, "Stay close!" Later on I went to Target in search of cardigans and another little girl was staring at me through two racks. Her mother--a lady with bleached blond hair, too much makeup, and long manicured fingernails--was flippantly filing through piles and responding to her daughter in "umm hmmm"s and "yep"s. The little girl kept twirling, then stopping to stick her tongue out and stare at it with croseed eyes, then squealing for another reaction for her mother.
I moved across the store.
Maybe there's no real meaning to the evening. Maybe it's that birds and children are quite similar. I'm not afraid to wave my shoes at either creature, or believe that my space and plans in life can be infringed upon by both.
There we go. I've discovered it now.