A visit to a seabird colony in summer is an assault on the senses. First there’s the noise, then the overwhelming ammonia smell that stains the memory, and then the swirl of colour and activity on the white-washed cliffs.
When you’re standing hundreds of metres above the crashing sea, there can be hundreds or thousands of breeding seabirds in the air or on the sea below, or precariously perched on poorly made nests or ridiculously narrow ledges.
