The Midnight Seagulls

As the silent majority of my blog readers (if there are any) might remember that, back in July, I posted a doorbell cam video to show you how bloody noisy it can get around here at night (see here). We have regular screeching and hooting by barn and tawny owls, which are periodically joined by the sounds of randy foxes.

I recently mentioned this to my brother Si who still lives in Cornwall (I'm the only member of my family who ever moved away) and he said, 'Well at least you aren't woken at the crack of dawn by bloody seagulls.'

Ah yes, Si. But, just a few short years ago, I used to be woken by them at midnight.

Gulls - particularly the large Herring Gulls - are as common as grass in Cornwall and were part of the tapestry of my childhood. Not a minute went by without hearing their mournful wails and witchy cackles. Even though we didn't always live near the sea, they were a constant reminder that my home county is uniquely bordered on three sides by the sea and less than 50 miles across at its widest part. 

They were a nuisance, to be sure. Quite apart from the guano issue, they are big, strong birds and they are predatory hunters. And they've become much bolder in recent years and think nothing of stealing food out of your hands these days. Meanwhile, the huge amounts of food available to them on shore means that they don't have to go to sea to fish anymore and that their numbers have increased dramatically. Sadly this has meant that frequent culls have to take place, although a more subtle approach is to climb over the rooftops to break or steal their eggs. You do have to be licensed to do this and they can only be taken at certain times of year. But it's not necessarily a waste - some of the posher restaurants now have gull eggs on their menus and, having tasted some, I can vouch for the fact that they are some of the richest and tastiest eggs I've ever eaten. They look gorgeous too.

Meanwhile, mad groups of youngsters have invented the game of 'Gull Running'. You buy a punnet of chips and then hold it on your head and attempt to run the length of a street or promenade where gulls are prolific. Whoever crosses the finishing line with the most chips wins. Injuries are common, however, as the gulls' sharp powerful beaks easily stab through the cardboard punnets during their divebombing raids.

Source: BBC

When I moved to the South East I was quite surprised to find that the gulls came with me. I'd see and hear them around Soho and Covent Garden, where I worked, all the time as there were spoils to be had from the overflowing litter bins. And they would squat on the Thames, waiting for an opportunity to steal food from tourists and lunchtime picnickers on the Embankment. Everywhere I looked they seemed to be muscling in on the pigeons' turf, like a kind of avian West Side Story but without all the dancing and homoeroticism. Apparently, the migration of gulls into towns and cities is because there's so much free food and because tall buildings mimic their natural clifftop nesting sites. 

My last house was in nearby High Wycombe. The town doesn't have too many very tall buildings, but it is near the Thames and the gulls have come so far up the river these days that they have displaced populations of wild ducks and geese in some areas. And one place that they have made their own is the local recycling centre, genuinely named High Heavens by the local authority. Lying in my bed in my previous house, I could hear the seagulls screaming at midnight as the refuse people worked tirelessly on the landfill and recycling work. 

It may have been the middle of the night, but the sound was strangely comforting and reminded me of my childhood. But here I'm too far away and the gulls are noticeably absent from the night. 

Strange how you miss the oddest things.

The owls will have to do for now.