View From My Writing Widow

Every year dozens of the white winged birds converge on our lake, landing like ordinary seagulls, until you look close, and the birds loom large.  Only in pairs.  They stay awhile, honking and flapping, until the anglers scare them off.   The same duo visits every year – I’m sure it’s the same; and they come hungry.  My Busy Son snapped this pic as they swooped into our beach for a snack.

I know.  I’m cheating.  Wasn’t actually writing whilst gazing through my writing window, but give me a break; it’s spring. Now, how do I work them into a story?