The RSPB argues that gulls do not attack humans but only “protect their
nests”. Problem is, the nests are on the humans’ roofs. An urban building is
not a sea cliff, and it is perverse to pretend that it’s the gulls’ own
territory that is being invaded. Neither is it strictly true that aggression
is confined to nesting sites. Any humans with food in their hands —
sandwiches, pasties, hamburgers, chips, ice creams — are prime targets for a
beak.
The NHS does not keep records of minor injuries, so it is impossible to know
how many have needed treatment after gull attacks. Local newspapers fill the
gap with stories of postmen knocked from bicycles, householders terrorised,
scaffolders forced down their ladders, scalps ripped. A headline in The
Independent might have been lifted from a straight-to-video movie: “Attack
of the killer seagulls”.
There has been at least one well-publicised death, of an 80-year-old man who
was attacked and fell while trying to clear guano from his garage roof in
Anglesey (he died of a heart attack). A woman tore tendons and split a bone
in her foot when she tried to escape an attacker in Weymouth. Last summer a
woman was taken to hospital after being savaged at Burnham-on-Sea. If
reports are to be believed, at least one dog has been pecked to death and a
school in Sussex has had to rig netting over its playground to keep the
children safe. Yet violence is not necessarily the worst problem. Gulls can
start their noise as early as 4am, and the slow torture of sleep deprivation
can cut more deeply into the human psyche than fear of a bloody head. Roofs
and windows are plastered with droppings so alkaline that they eat through
the paintwork of cars. Birds damage roof insulation, block gutters and flues
with their nests, and redistribute the contents of bins with the kind of
wild energy that makes foxes look fastidious. They are also blamed for
spreading disease.
Gulls feeding at sewage outfalls or landfills can become agents of bacterial
warfare when they visit reservoirs on the way home. Gastrointestinal
pathogens delivered via bird droppings include salmonella, E. coli,
campylobacter, cryptosporidium, listeria and yersinia. And it is not just
humans at risk. Gulls also infest farmland and draw cows and sheep into
their cycle of decay. An outbreak of salmonella in Scotland was the climax
of a poisonous chain reaction that began with an infected human, then
travelled via sewage, gulls and pasture into cows and milk. In Lancashire,
gulls infected feeding troughs with salmonella and caused an epidemic of
abortion in sheep. “The sheep licked the droppings,” explained an expert in
the journal Microbiology Today, “and the salmonella caused the foetuses to
rot in the ewes.”
Another great unknown is the effect on local economies. We know what some
local authorities are spending to eradicate or deter the birds — £30,000 a
year in Bristol, for example — but have little idea how much it’s costing in
terms of cleaning, repairs, private defences and tourism. This will be the
focus of Rock’s research through the winter.
Apart from the gulls themselves, the only beneficiaries have been pest-control
companies. One early idea was to frighten the birds away with balloons
patterned with the larger-than-life eyeballs of the only gull bigger than
themselves — the great black-backed. They took no notice. Next came plastic
eagle owls, from which the gulls were supposed to flee in terror. Same
result. People began to wonder whether the birds’ complicated vocabulary of
calls included the sound of laughter. Only when real birds of prey were
introduced did the gulls take notice. Then they took wing and smashed the
would-be assassins to the ground. They also ignored loud bangs, while
distress calls broadcast through loudspeakers were more of an aggravation to
humans than to the birds themselves.
The word “cull” began to be heard, but mass shootings or poisonings in public
places have obvious legal problems as well as health and safety drawbacks.
There is also the question of public sentiment. In Britain we feed wild
birds, not kill them. “Gulls ‘strangled’ in front of staff”, said an
indignant headline in Bournemouth’s Daily Echo in June 2007. The staff in
question were left “horrified and in tears” after they saw pest-control
officers wring the necks of three gull chicks on the roof of a neighbouring
office. “I was completely devastated to have witnessed such violence and an
act of such unjustified cruelty,” said one woman. “If I knew, I would have
taken them home myself.” Such is England. The public will no more
stand for slaughter than it will obey “Do not feed the gulls” notices.
All this is extremely irritating to Peter Rock. He may have been gull-whacked
more times than any other living human, but he is still offended by what he
sees as media hype. “You get this image of savage thugs stealing babies from
their prams and eating them on rooftops in front of their wailing mothers.”
Neither is he much impressed by the salmonella scare. Only 2.7% of gulls are
infected, he says. “So for a human to get salmonella, he would have to walk
around looking upwards with his mouth open. A rare infected bird would then
have to defecate straight into his mouth and he would have to swallow it.”
Most of all he is angered by ineffective policies born of ignorance. “It’s
unbelievable,” he says, “that people have been spending so much money
without understanding how and why the things they are spending it on are
going to work.”
The most popular defensive strategies today are nest destruction, egg
sterilisation and “gull-proofing”. Sterilisation theoretically delivers a
double whammy. Eggs dipped in oil and replaced in the nest will not only
fail to hatch, but will keep the adults sitting on them until deep into the
summer and stop them laying more. Replacing real eggs with dummies works in
the same way. Trouble is, it’s expensive. Bristol, for example, is replacing
1,500 eggs a year at a cost of £30,000 — £20 for every unhatched chick. And
its effectiveness is, at best, limited. Even if you could achieve the
impossible and sterilise every egg laid by every roof-nesting gull in
Britain, adults’ extreme longevity means it would be many years before we
would see any impact on numbers.
The biggest mistake of all is to believe that if you stop gulls breeding in
one place, they will simply give up. Peter Rock quotes the example of
Gloucester, where a “fairly vigorous” programme of egg-oiling in the town
centre began in 2004. “In 2005 I noticed a 19% decline in numbers of
breeding pairs in the area. But at the same time I found a 50% increase in
another part of the town.” In terms of reducing overall numbers,
“gull-proofing” a building is useless. Stretch nets over a flat roof, or fix
spikes along a roof ridge or around chimney pots, and all that happens is
that the birds breed on someone else’s roof instead. This much Peter Rock
knows. He knows, too, that the problem is not confined to Britain. From
Norway to Portugal, every coastal country along the western seaboard of
Europe now has roof-nesting gulls. So have the US, Canada and Australia.
He knows they are intelligent, patient and resourceful. Even when gulls are
driven off landfills, their numbers do not decline — they simply shop
elsewhere. If necessary, they will travel long distances. By counting and
observing them for nearly 30 years, Rock has learnt a great deal about how
colonies seed themselves and multiply. He knows a lot, but not enough. Has
suspicions about the politics and logistics of the gull economy, but not yet
proof.
Working with Bristol University, he has designed a three-year project that
would build a picture of unprecedented detail: exactly where the birds
travel; what they eat and what they feed their young; how they select and
defend their territories. Satellite transponders would allow researchers to
follow individual birds and minutely observe their behaviour. They would
even analyse food samples regurgitated by chicks in the nest. Only then
would they have a clear understanding of how the birds manage their lives,
what it is that makes them so successful, and what it might take to deter
them. The likely cost would be £300,000, and there of course is the problem.
Without a sponsor, it’s the research that will be starved out, not the gulls.
The most obvious candidate, the Department for Environment, Food and Rural
Affairs (Defra), is terminally cash-strapped and has blown its money trying
to eradicate the American ruddy duck. Which leaves Peter Rock, as he puts
it, “looking for a wealthy benefactor”. Compared with the ocean of
money being splashed on gull deterrence, £300,000 is the merest dribble.
Bristol alone will spend this much on egg-replacement over a 10-year
programme. Yet without it much of the ocean will drain uselessly into the
sand. Over our heads the birds literally will rule the roost.
ATTACK IN FOUR STAGES
1 First, the gull makes a ‘gag’ call to warn the human intruder to leave
2 If this fails, it makes a low pass within a metre or two of their head
3 Next it defecates or vomits over the intruder
4 Then comes the physical attack: swooping from behind, it rakes the victim’s
head. The sharpness of the claws, and the impact of a 1kg bird striking at
40mph, mean that wounds can be severe
