I can distinctly remember reading this book. I was 8 and it was 1973. We were living on a sailboat in a marina in Mission Bay, San Diego. I'd hide out in our old, oxidized red International pickup truck in the marina parking lot, laying down in the overheated cab on the cracked, dark green leather bench seat, smelling hot oil and gas. I think I read JLS at least 5 times that year. Did I understand the underlying message? Probably not. But seagulls were part of my everyday existence and this book made me look at them differently. I've been a fan of metaphorical animal books ever since.