Maybe they were pondgulls
I was walking on the paved pathway in the park at two in the afternoon. It was just me, the landscaping crew, and some birds circling overhead.
One of the mowers was coming my way, cutting the grass along the edge of the path. The operator shut off the blades and swerved wide into the field, in order to avoid throwing up grass clippings in my face. I waved and nodded at him in thanks. He nodded back but didn’t wave. He had his hands on the levers.
The birds looked like seagulls, but I knew they couldn’t be. The only body of water in the park was a pond that you could jump across. The nearest sea was almost a thousand miles away.