Urban gulls

I was surprised recently, when I told a friend that I like sleeping with the window open because I like to hear the seagulls circling. 'You don't have seagulls in Birmingham, do you?' he said, and was frankly rather incredulous. I hadn't realised that it is only of recent years that seagulls have moved inwards from the coast (sensible chaps, it's warmer, and with more food, which also means they breed earlier and longer - virtually exactly the same advantages which city living holds for humans as well!). That said, it seems I am about the only person who likes them:

If ever the world goes into financial meltdown and cities fall into an Orwellian dereliction then it will be a close contest between seagulls and the buddleja as to who will reclaim the land from mankind.

At first, the buddleja seemed a sound bet inhabiting every square inch of vacant industrial land but I’ve decided to give the seagulls my vote following their invasion of the city centre. The threat was brought home to me at a presentation by an unfortunate from Birmingham City Council’s Environmental Services, at a recent Ladywood Ward Committee meeting.

Feelings were running high in the Jewellery Quarter particularly and I had personally been inundated with complaints from residents who complained  that a good night’s sleep was just a distant memory as they suffered  a literal remake of The Birds. Tales abound ranging from black cars turning white under the weight of guano, residents stepping in bird poo as big as elephant’s wotsits, bird cries registering the same decibel levels as a Take That convention and, most frightening of all, seagulls swooping down to try and snatch babes in arms.

Unsuprisingly, cries have gone up from even the most mild-mannered residents to exterminate them Terminator style and therefore solve the Quarter’s insomnia problem in one ‘fowl’ swoop.

But it’s not that simple…

Firstly the seagulls (or urban gulls to be ornithologically PC) are split into black tipped gulls and herring gulls. The latter are a protected species and very difficult to tell apart when they’re young unless you’re a budding Bill Oddie. This means a seagull shooting season is currently out of bounds, although seagull kebabs or gull goulash spring readily to mind.

Consequently, the guys from Enviro Services have tried a number of alternative strategies commencing with mock hawks which the, apparently not unintelligent, gulls have treated with contempt and used as a convenient shelter for egg laying. The next idea was calling in the ornithological equivalent of the SAS (Seagull Attack Service) i.e. a hawk. Apparently this is unlikely to scare the seagulls who can apparently look after themselves – know wot I mean? Source

The author of this article, of course, makes no mention of the rats which are a much more traditional enemy of humanity and are also getting bigger, fatter, and more comfortable. And since I live on the other side of the city centre from the relatively more swanky Jewellery Quarter, I can of course lie in bed secure in the knowledge that the gulls are merely looking for food in the markets before wandering off home to ruin some posh person's sleep. In the Chinese quarter, we don't sleep, we merely stay up and scream at each other.

Never one to miss an opportunity, this invasion of gulls has provided the Hound with another urban totem to invoke and work with. Like the cockroach, the gull is one which takes over and is difficult or impossible to move on, however it also has overtones of being at home and not leaving on that account. Always a mistake to try to resist the winds of change, you just end up (haha) beached.
Since Inexplicable Device is determined that I am going to post on my rather bizarre taste in music (and I think he may have forgotten his reaction to my last post in the Witches' Hymnbook series, which was Drowning Pool's Let The Bodies Hit the Floor, I will finish by just posting a song with which I grew up, and which seems strangely suitable at this point.