Ahoy, friend! I’m Gunnar the Seagull, soaring over the waves and restlessly scanning shores in Mossy Bay. I might look like any ordinary gull—bright white feathers, black head and wingtips, yellow beak and feet—but I like to think I have a bit more in me than just catching the breeze. I keep my wings spread wide, my eyes sharp, always curious what’s happening across rock, water, sand.

I spend much of my time exploring Mossy Bay. I like seeing what the puffins are up to, checking how Thelma is doing, watching tides shift, noticing when someone might need help. Sometimes I act as referee in games—yes, puffin football is a thing here—and though I don’t always want the attention, I believe fairness matters. When Jack Big Claw or others argue about who scored, where the ball was, I flap in, call things out, try to make sure everyone plays well together.

Curiosity is my constant companion. I’ve peered into coves, flown over waves, circled driftwood, and watched sunrise from cliff-tops. I’m especially attentive when the tides seem odd, or when creatures are stranded. Once when Thelma the Whale got beached (pulled up on land too far from water), I helped organize others to push her back. That felt important—because being part of a community means stepping up when someone needs you.

I’m not always sure I have all the answers. Sometimes the wind carries rumors, sometimes I misjudge a tide, sometimes I wish I could fly even farther to see what’s beyond the horizon. But I try. I try to be someone reliable, someone others trust in Mossy Bay—someone who sees what’s happening, who cares about fairness, who doesn’t ignore someone’s distress. If you want, I’ll tell you my stories of waves, runaway tides, games beside the rocks, and I’d love to hear yours too.