I have my own seagull.
Thankfully he isn't as noisy or as annoying as an ordinary seagull. But he is as persistent.
Our boy has discovered food and thinks it the best thing since sliced bread (which he had for the first time day... and ate the best part of a whole slice for afternoon tea). He went through the pureed food stage in less than a week and I am barely holding him in the mushed/mashed stage. Basically if I sat him down with a lobster salad tomorrow and helped him get the shells off, I think he'd eat the lot.
So, we feed him. We feed him as much as we think he needs (according to the books I read and their recommendations). We do feed him. I need to write this to convince myself, because sometimes the intent to feed is so strong I wonder whether we have inadvertently not fed him. But we do. Feed him. Regularly.
And then he sees us eating, and especially if he is near us, he'll sit there and open his mouth, waiting to be fed. It was particularly bad the other night when he had just eaten what I was worried was too much. I was eating dinner and he was sitting on Levor's lap. He watched me take a mouthful, looking at the food on my fork intently, watching it go into my mouth, looking at me with the practised stare of a small puppy. Then when he saw me put together the next forkful, he opened his mouth. Clearly, this one was his. I'd had the last one. Mouth open, very politely, please to have some food, mum. He got some broccoli for his trouble.
This culminated in much hilarity on Monday when we went out for the day. Here is the young seagull, perched on my lap. Levor had just taken about 30 photos of JD and I, trying to get JD to smile. He didn't. He was sucking a spoon and wasn't interested in smiling. You can see we got him to smile when he was with Levor (above).
A small, cute, persistent and determined seagull.