The Seagulls had heart disease.
Not because they ever wanted to. But they did. See, the fish had died long ago when the first of the walking mammals arrived, with their axes, guns, and amazing food. All that didn’t kill the fish. Revolution did. “Industrial” some called it.
Cheese was good. Bread the everyday. Sometimes pieces of flesh would fall, not like fish, but close enough. Fried dough and burnt crust was constant, grilled shrimp and red flesh rare. Seagulls did not discriminate.
The seagulls from far away mourned their fallen kin. But in Atlantic City, the seagulls never mourned or sung wind songs. There was simply too much food to eat to be bothered to fly in honor or memory. Never did they notice what they ate was death with good taste.