I used to hear sparrows, starlings, wood pigeons and robins. Now, summer’s small hours are dominated by a chorus fit for a seafarer: herring gulls mostly, narrating the day from their urban stoops. “Oh, how lovely!”, wistful colleagues say. “I feel like I’m at the seaside during a call with you.” And yet, I am not at the seaside. I am in Exeter city centre, 10 miles from the coast.
Our relationship with gulls is complicated. From Viking superstition to British Vogue’s latest cover, these seabirds have long been allied with truth, cunning, good fortune and endurance, while simultaneously being regarded as the ultimate urban antagonist.
