“Dan explained that Cyril was a Great Blackback, the largest gull in the world. ‘Kind of a bully, but with a five- foot wingspan, what can you expect? You wanna see him dig some clams?’

“I nodded, mutely. Cyril’s yellow beak opened and closed. There was a red spot near the tip that looked like blood.

“Dan caw-honked twice. Cyril turned away from me, looked at Dan, cawed back at him, and flew off.

“A moment later Cyril was back. He dropped a clam in Dan’s hand and reperched on my right shoulder.

“‘Aw naw,’ Dan said, throwing the clam into the white bucket. ‘That’s a littleneck. Smallest legal clam. Best ones if you’re going to eat ‘em raw, though. Better than oysters if you ask me. Sweet and tasty. Let’s get you something bigger.’

“Again Dan caw-honked, Cyril replied, flew off, and quickly returned.

“Naww,’ Dan said, still disappointed. ‘That’s a cherrystone. They’re still tender, good for cooking, or for stuffies, but not as big or chewy as the chowder clams. Gotta get you at least an ashtray.’

“Dan and Cyril had a long and serious conversation, until Cyril rolled his eyes and flew off.

“This time I saw how he did it. Cyril dove into the water and came up a minute later with a huge clam, about the size of a pie plate. This one he did not, however, drop into Dan’s hand. Instead, Cyril flew right above me and dropped the clam on my head with the precision of a B52 bomber.

“I yelped, and Dan started laughing. ‘He thinks your head’s a rock. That’s how they open the clams. They drop them on the rocks, shells split open, and they eat out the insides.’

“Enough was enough. I slammed my notebook shut and headed back up the hill, leaving Dan down by the water, clutching his sides, bent over, and laughing his head off.

“But Cyril was not done with me. He began pelting me with clams. I started running. That bird was fast. I’d barely slammed the car door shut when I heard a loud thunk, and looked up to see a razor- sharp quahog shell sticking sideways through the roof, about an inch from the top of my head.

“Fortunately the engine started as soon as I turned the key, and I sped out of there, tires spitting gravel. In the rear view mirror, I saw Dan grinning and waving, with Cyril floating above him looking disappointed.

“My heart stopped racing and I’d caught my breath by the time I hit the highway. It was getting dark, and I realized I was starving. My initial plan had been to stop by a clam shack while I was near the shore and get a meal, but I had no idea where to go. Besides, I was hot, sweaty, and filthy. Cyril had deposited copious amounts of guano on my shoulder and in my hair, which Dan had laughingly explained was supposed to bring me good luck.

“There was, I knew, nothing to eat in the house, and I was racking my brains to figure out where I could go to get a quick bite before heading back to the office to file my story, when I remembered another Rhode Island restaurant I’d heard about.

“The New York System on Smith Street was open all night, and I’d heard that they’d serve anybody, regardless of their condition or pungency. Rumor was that David Byrne of the Talking Heads had worked there once.…

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The Seagull and The New York System (Part 4)