They’re bold, opportunistic and your chips are not safe near them. But wildlife writer Jane Adams says Dorset’s gulls are simply making the most of a world we’ve reshaped
The adults’ black wingtips are marked with white ‘mirrors’ but the young birds are mottled brown in their first year. Although still a familiar sight around Dorset’s coast, and increasingly inland, the Herring Gull is now a Red List species because of its long-term population decline.
Let’s start by getting one thing straight … there’s no such thing as a seagull. I know that’s a strange way to begin an August wildlife column, especially when Dorset’s beaches are full of them, but “seagull” isn’t actually a bird. It’s a nickname we’ve given to a whole family of different gulls – a bit like calling every duck a mallard.
Then we must dicuss the thieving.
Every summer, the tabloids delight in stories of holidaymakers being “attacked” by marauding seagulls stealing their sandwiches, chips and ice creams.
The simple fact is gulls are clever birds, and we humans make remarkably easy targets!
The bird flying into the distance with your lunch is most likely a herring gull. Its pink legs are a bit of a giveaway if you see one up close. The smaller gulls you see on road verges, in parks and following tractors are probably black-headed gulls … and no, they don’t always have a black head, just to confuse matters.
Around Poole Harbour you might spot a rare and beautiful Mediterranean gull with (if it’s an adult) a bright red beak, while our largest species, the great black-backed gull, is more often seen gliding effortlessly over the sparkling waves.
They’re all gulls, but all different species with different habits. We have six species of gull that breed in the UK – they just happen to all look vaguely similar.
At around 35cm long, it’s one of our smaller gulls and just as likely to be found inland as along the coast, gathering in noisy flocks wherever there’s food
When I swim at Lulworth Cove, I nearly always take a thermos of coffee and a peanut butter sandwich wrapped in foil (I’m a creature of habit). Last week I left my foil-wrapped sandwich on the table beside my clothes. By the time I emerged, my sandwich was halfway to Weymouth … the foil lay neatly on the ground. Apparently, even herring gulls know not to eat aluminium at least.
I don’t blame them for their food-thieving tendencies. They are opportunists and very quick learners. If we’d rather they didn’t steal our food, perhaps we shouldn’t have spent decades teaching them that humans come bearing gifts – or, in my case, peanut butter sandwiches.
For all its dreadful reputation, the light-fingered (or should that be clawed?) herring gull is actually a red-listed species. They’ve had to adapt just to survive.
Rooftops now mimic the cliffs they once nested on, while our towns and beaches provide an alternative food source. In recent years, their numbers have fallen dramatically due to changes in fishing practices, declining fish stocks and the loss of traditional nesting sites.
So this August, by all means, hang on to your chips for dear life. But perhaps take a second look at the bird eyeing them up. It may not be “a seagull” but it’s defintely one of several species of gull that are learning how to get by in a world we’ve changed beyond their recognition. I quite admire them. I hope you will too.
