We're told -- among other things connected with Lewis Hamilton -- that he has an affiliation with animals. Canada seems to prove that's true.
In 2007, a groundhog waited for Lewis to go by before ignoring the Ile Notre Dame Highway Code and stepping out in front of a hapless Anthony Davidson. Lewis went on to win his first Grand Prix and poor Ant was denied what would have been his only F1 career championship points. Apparently, a groundhog on the nose wing of your Super Aguri does little for either the aerodynamics or the braking.
Fast forward to this year. Two seagulls are admiring the view from inside the first corner. Sebastian Vettel spots them while braking from 180mph (where do these guys find the spare mental capacity?), locks up and somehow gathers it together. The seagulls continue their chat and then clear off before -- guess who turns up. Hamilton, oblivious to the potential for a feathered throttle of a different kind, continues towards his fifth victory on Circuit Gilles Villeneuve.
Vettel made an interesting addition to the Racing Drivers' Book of Excuses when he mentioned the seagulls. To be fair, it was light-hearted, but you had the impression Hamilton didn't believe him. Well, who would?
Seb picked up the conversation as he walked past the Sky TV crew interviewing Lewis in the paddock. It was broadcasting gold; fair play to Sky and presenter Simon Lazenby for running with it. Instead of discussing understeer and degradation, we had banter about suicidal gulls. If nothing else, this cheeky exchange showed a side of drivers that's usually crushed by F1 interview protocol and their teams' paranoia about not giving away anything that might be of interest. More than that, it made clear a mutual respect that I wouldn't mind betting Vettel and Hamilton have for few of their colleagues.
Pity the poor VT operator back in the Sky truck who had to rapidly scour miles of tape for the brief image of Seb's birds. He or she came up trumps --as did Vettel as he made his alibi stand up before it got wings.
Wildlife is part of the landscape on this man-made island; one of the finest F1 venues, provided the sun shines. We had one such day in 1988. After the race, I was idly looking out of the media centre window (probably desperately searching for inspiration) when I spotted Ivan Capelli standing on the deserted starting grid. This was a ritual frequently enjoyed by a kind and sensitive man as he savoured that slightly bizarre silence that descends on a place that had been noise and bedlam only a few hours before. The Leyton House March driver's thoughts were pleasantly enhanced by feeding bread to a few birds, word soon getting out on the seagull Internet. Before long, the track was filled with enough gulls to cause a grid full of Vettels to lock up.
But not the driver of a mechanics' minibus, making a speedy escape to the airport. At least three birds were killed or injured as the vehicle ploughed through their midst. Capelli was beside himself. As were a number of people who ran to the gird. The identity of the team doesn't matter now. Save to say that their boss was as upset as Capelli, administered a rebuke to the guilty party and making a contribution to a wildlife fund.
Birds, eh? Always getting blokes in trouble.