By the sea?

It is a strange sensation to be woken by the shrieking of seagulls – more so because I am a good hour’s drive from the coast. The sound of the gulls takes me back to childhood holidays in Cornwall and Devon, where the birds were part of the holiday experience and something that sat alongside fish and chips and ice cream in a cone. That the gulls have now become part of my inland soundscape has everything to do with a change in their behaviour.

We have seen a huge increase in the numbers of inland-breeding gulls and a good number of our cities now support breeding colonies of lesser black-backed and herring gulls. While numbers are increasing over much of the UK, there have been declines in the gull colonies of northern Britain and Ireland. The birds here in Thetford are lesser black-backed gulls and this is a species for which we have seen a significant increase in the use of man-made structures, particularly rooftops, for nesting. I suspect that some of the large, flat-roofed, industrial units on the edge of town are being used by these birds.

The numbers of gulls present inland during winter has also increased and mixed flocks, often in the company of black-headed gulls, can be seen on fields and around the many piggeries that have become a feature of the Breckland landscape. On occasion, there are even lesser black-backs in with the black-headed gulls on the river at Thetford.

It is thought that these increases, both in winter and during the breeding season, are linked to a change in the feeding opportunities available to the gulls, coupled with a reduction in the levels of persecution. Increasing quantities of food waste seem to litter our streets and our landfill sites now contain vast quantities of organic waste and kitchen discards, all of which provide access to food throughout the year for these opportunistic birds. During the winter months other gulls may join the local birds from further afield, with some arriving from elsewhere in Europe to winter here. At the same time, some of our birds leave Britain to winter elsewhere: a few lesser black-backed gulls winter as far south as West Africa, underlining just how mobile these birds can be.

Amid the din

To be within a gull colony is to experience a true cacophony of noise. In this instance it is my presence within this colony of nesting lesser black-backed gulls, some 3,400 pairs strong, that is the reason for the noise. Perceived as a predator I am the target of screeching adults, who additionally splatter me with excrement and dive at my head. The hat and overalls that I am wearing are a necessity and both will be consigned to the boil cycle of a washing machine. Working as part of a small team, I am here to catch and ring a sample of the chicks.

It is an early season this year and many of the chicks are almost capable of flight. The few pairs on eggs or young chicks are probably replacements for earlier failures. The vegetation within the colony has also benefited from the warm spring, being much thicker than usual. This has made it more difficult to find and catch the chicks, which have been using a network of runways through the stalks of nettle, wild turnip and thistle to slip out of reach.

Each of the 150 or so chicks to be ringed is handled with care, both for the bird’s welfare and our own. The chicks will strike at face and flesh, and will invariably throw up the contents of their most recent meal in attempt to drive you away. While some throw up fish, others return marine worms, scavenged waste (including, in one case, burger and chips) and young rats. Since there are no rats on the island, these will have been taken on the mainland. All in all, ringing these birds in order to derive a measure of annual survival is an unpleasant, though necessary, task.

In addition to the metal ring fitted to the bird, each is also given a numbered plastic ring, known as a darvic, allowing the bird to be identified without the need to recapture it again. Records of individuals from this colony have been received from Portugal and even North Africa, underlining that many of our lesser black-backed gulls make significant movements. It doesn’t take long to complete our task and as we leave so the cacophony begins to die down.

Island Life

There is something romantic about island life and about being cut-off from the mainland and its ways. It is a feeling that is hard to describe, not least in terms of its origins, but I wonder if the feeling stems from having to look inward rather than outward. By focussing on the routine of island living you are freed from the unnecessary adornments of a globalised society, able to concentrate on the local and the present.

I find the feeling strongest on small, barely habited, islands, particularly those scattered along our western seaboard: from the Hebrides in the north to Flat Holm in the south. Even Flat Holm, a ten-minute sprint by rib from Cardiff Bay, shares the sense of comfortable isolation. Situated in the middle of the Bristol Channel and barely 500m wide at its longest point, the island and its scatter of buildings has a long history of use. In this time of economic belt-tightening, Flat Holm’s future has become uncertain; the council landowners allegedly keen to jettison their responsibilities for the island and its heritage. The ruins of a cholera hospital, of a naval garrison and of a Victorian rainwater collection system are testament to changing uses down through the years. Like many of our marginal islands, Flat Holm has been both protector and nurse to previous generations.

It is also a seabird island. Too far up the Bristol Channel to attract nesting auks or shags, the island is instead home to a colony of some 4,000 lesser black-backed gulls, fewer herring gulls, a pair of ravens and a pair of cliff nesting peregrines. A few pairs of woodpigeons breed in some low elder woodland, but these get hammered by the peregrines, while blackbird, dunnock, wren and two species of pipit just about make up the avian community.

Other islands may differ in their communities – Steep Holm, the neighbouring island to Flat Holm, has cormorants and, bizarrely, muntjac deer (an introduction) – but they share the same sense of ease. Of course, the realities of living year-round on a small island will be very different from the few days I get to spend on my trips. Even so, I suspect it would prove to be a rewarding way in which to live.

The stench of success

It is not so much the stench that gets you but the waste, the sheer volume of household detritus that is scattered layers deep over such a vast area. This is my first time on a waste tip and it is truly shocking to see the fragments of furniture, unwanted toys, endless plastic trays and countless shoes that have ended up here for landfill. This is not a place I want to be but it is where we stand the best chance of catching gulls for a colour-ringing project with which we are involved.


Setting the net is a well-drilled exercise; we roll out the hessian, onto which the net is neatly folded, then set up the ‘cannons’ whose projectiles, when fired, will carry the net over the feeding birds. Everything is checked and double-checked before we retreat some distance to wait. One of the bulldozer drivers adds some fresh refuse to the catching area and then the gulls appear. 


Hundreds of gulls that had been loafing around the site take to the air and I am reminded of sleet against a dark November sky, such is their number. The first birds down to feed are the Black-headed Gulls, but the larger gulls quickly follow them: mostly Herring and Lesser Black-backed Gulls, with the odd Great Black-backed lurking menacingly. The net can only be fired when the safety-zone is clear of gulls so we miss taking several catches because of gulls stood too close to the folded net. The flock feeds quickly and then is gone. More fresh refuse is added and the process repeated until, finally, we can fire. There is a loud bang and the net is up and over the birds in an instant. We rush from our hiding place to secure the net and carefully extract the gulls, which are then placed in hessian sacks to keep them still and calm.


It is only when you get these birds in the hand that you appreciate the delicate nature of the Black-headed Gulls and the brute strength of the Herring Gulls. All of the larger gulls are immatures, either born this year or last, and we work our way through the sacks, ringing and recording before the colour rings are fitted. These also carry a number and are visible enough for birdwatchers to read the number and report it. It should tell us a lot about gull movements, something already evident from this morning’s catch as we have caught a bird ringed in Denmark and one from the Czech Republic. One of the gulls, its foot covered in the expandable foam used by builders, highlights the hidden dangers of feeding at landfill sites and underlines our impact on the natural world.