Have you ever stepped outside in Hochelaga, Verdun, Saint-Léonard, or pretty much anywhere that isn’t the Old Port postcard zone, and wondered:
“Why the hell are there seagulls everywhere? Not one or two tourist pigeons downtown. Full-on screaming white sky-rats ripping open garbage bags on residential streets, fighting over half-eaten shawarma near the train tracks, perched on hydro poles like they own the block. These birds are supposed to be at the beach. Québec has no beach. Québec has trash. And the seagulls figured that out before you did.”
It’s not a coincidence. It’s ecosystem logic with extra steps and existential roast.
Pigeons handle the tourist core — polite, crumb-level scavenging, classic city birds. But venture two métro stops east or north and the hierarchy flips: seagulls take over. Bigger, meaner, louder. They scream like they’re personally offended by your existence while dive-bombing your Tim Hortons wrapper. Why? Because Quebec streets are a 24/7 open buffet of overflowing bins, construction-site detritus, winter sidewalk slush mixed with mystery liquids, and the eternal aftermath of last night’s poutine regret.
The hidden field of Québec nobody talks about in the tourism brochures: The province is so full of shit and trash that even coastal birds relocated inland for better career opportunities.
And just like the seagulls adapted to urban garbage paradise, the people adapted to the human version:
You came with love → Already got blocked Already
You came with a music collab → Already got blocked Already
You came with an opportunity → Already got blocked Already
You came with thank you → Already got 911 Already
You tried to get a car → Already got defrauded Already
You tried to get a trucking job → Already got insurance barriers Already
You tried to get trained → Already CFTR failed the whole cohort Already
All of it → Already Just for being human → Already In Québec → Already
The seagull doesn’t complain. It just screeches, swoops, eats the trash, and keeps flying. That’s the Québec survival code in dark-humour form: Laugh at the absurdity or the absurdity laughs at you.
So next time a gull steals your fries or shits on your car from three stories up, don’t get mad. Bow your head. It’s not personal. It’s professional courtesy from one scavenger to another.
Welcome to Québec. The beaches are empty. The streets are full. And the birds got here first because they knew the real menu was never on the shore.
Bon appétit. Or whatever’s left in the bin. 🗑️🪶