LORD OF THE TURKEY VULTURES!

Somehow our stuffed turkey vulture (Sydney Fylbert) has got it fixated in his mind that the salt flats at the edge of the bay where other turkey vultures circle overhead searching for food is his spiritual home. He belongs there. The other turkey vultures will admire his sophistication.

I keep telling him that the others will bully him and sneer at his city ways. And steal any snacks he brings with him, because it will give them an alternative to the dead seagulls which they've been eating -- or not, when there aren't enough dead seagulls for all, some of them must go to bed hungry at night -- and despite his own feigned distaste for dead seagulls and how they smell, they are his natural food and he will grow to love them. Given that the only food to eat out on the salt flats is dead seagull. He'll learn to appreciate it soon enough.
Eventually he won't mind the smell, honest!
There's nothing else there.

Yum yum dead seagulls!


"Oh Lord Of The Turkey Vultures, save me from this sadistic old snot who keeps mentioning dead seagulls!"


There there little guy. The Lord Of The Turkey Vultures may, if he chooses, generously provide dead seagulls. "Will you shut up, old man?!?!" No, little guy, you need to face the facts. Stop this cloud cuckoo land thinking, accept reality, buck up. Oh and dead seagulls.

Rocks. Sand. Salt water. Washed up bits of twig.
And dead seagulls.


Dead seagulls are a generous source of protein and other nutrients.

The other turkey vultures will poke him and see that he is well-fed.
They will bitterly resent him for it.


He has implored the Lord Of The Turkey Vultures to make me hushy! Now! Because he does NOT want to hear anymore about dead seagulls. And I should also be pecked with the Iron Beak of Justice. For mentioning dead seagulls so much that his stomach has turned

"Hushy hushy!"

Life, weird old cranky man, is NOT about dead seagulls!
And I should stop calling him 'Plump Chubbs'.
Lord Of The Turkey Vultures!
Justice!



Possible future still life painting, very Netherlandish:
Crusty bread, plate of herring, roemer of wine.
And a dead seagull.



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