Leave it. Blood stains command a bit of respect when accompanied with a plausible story.
I can hear the story now......
"It was a dark and stormy night, the wind howling through the rigging, green water barreling across the deck. I struggled to reach mast to put in a fourth reef, a decision delayed too long. One hand for the boat, one hand for myself, wrestling with the mainsail, green water daring to sweep me away, I was nearly finished. Suddenly out of the dark and fog a marauding seagull swept down upon me, challenging my skills, indeed challenging my very essence, it was an existential moment. Undaunted, I drew my marlinspike, slashing in the night as the flock of seagulls descended, it was a nightmare worthy of Alfred Hitchcock.
Creeping across the deck, as it rolled and pitched, fending off the seagulls I collapsed into the cockpit and fell into the cabin. Quickly securing the companionway, there was a lone seagull remaining. How it got into the cabin I do not know. It was a duel to the end, feathers flying, the two of us engaged a fight to the death in a dark cabin tossed about by monstrous seas. An ear piercing cry cursed the night as the seagull fell to the cabin sole and I into a bunk.
The next morning dawned bright and calm. Greasy glassy swells were all that remained of the night. The cabin was littered with debris, feathers, blood, half eaten nachos, but oddly no sign of the birds, no carcasses to be found, had the gulls vowed to leave no gull behind?
Taking inventory of the debris remaining from the stormy night, I saw blood on the sails, empty Barritt Ginger Beer cans, and empty Gosling's bottles......"
