An encounter at Lake Ontario
We just returned from a week-long vacation at a cabin on Lake Ontario. One day, Tabitha, Keeti, the Viking and I went walking through the lake waters to head to the beach. As we slogged through the waist-deep waters, we saw a seagull on a rock on the shore looking at us. We came within 20 feet, but curiously, the bird didn't fly away. He simply stood there and watched us warily.
We noticed a fishing lure, a shiny fish shape, in the rocks near the bird, and wondered if he was tangled. As if in answer, the bird tried to launch from the rock, only to be brought short by fishing line looped around his feet. As one we all began to move, scrambling over half-submerged slippery rocks towards him.
Keeti reached him first, and the rest of us held back so as to not frighten the bird. Keeti tried to untangle the line from the seagull's feet, but then said, "He's hooked." The bird flapped in agitation, and Keeti couldn't contain him and work on the line at the same time, so Tabitha and I moved in. She held his wings close to his body and I tried to free his feet. The hook was a vicious three-pronged barb that had crossed through both his feet several times. Blood spotted his feet and the rock he stood on.
"You'll have to tear it through his flesh," Tabitha said. "I don't think Scaharp can do it." She knows I am squeamish and hate causing pain. "I can do it to help him," I said grimly, and tried several times to pull one barb out of the fleshy bit between claws. But the force needed was more than I could do.
The Viking approached and tried to do it, but even his much greater strength just couldn't achieve it. So he ran slogging through the water back to our cabin to fetch wirecutters. It seemed like an hour before he returned, Tabitha holding the bird's body, Keeti grasping his neck, all of us perched awkwardly on the rocks, but in truth it probably was only 15 minutes . The bird had ceased struggling and rested quietly in their hands, eying us with distrust but resignation.
The Viking returned with the wirecutters, and began snapping off the barbs ends of the hook. Even with the cutters, it took several long minutes and difficult twisting to remove all the metal from the poor bird. But eventually, his feet looked clear. Tabitha released him gently on the flat rock heading away from us and he walked several steps, still watching us warily. Then he spread his wings and flew away.
Life isn't a children's movie; we never saw him again. He didn't perch on the deck railing and call to us, letting us know he knows we helped him. We don't know if his feet are healing and he is doing well and flying free. But we do know we gave him that chance.