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Glaucus gull eating a fish on the Pitt River.

Seagulls are ubiquitous in nature.  There is a great irony in the name as saltwater is not a necessary part of their existence.  Many are landlocked, generations never even seeing an ocean.  In fact, the closest many come to salt happens when a french fry goes astray at an outdoor eatery.  Landgulls would also be a falsely descriptive moniker as they are common around all bodies of water.  The term gull by itself is apt; the dictionary clearly defines what a gull is and does not place it over any particular surface body.

Gulls are instantly recognizable by both sound and sight.  Identifying them by species is another thing entirely because of the various plumages they have.  Some gulls have a juvenile stage and an adult stage, but some go through four different phases before reaching maturity.  When trying to identify a gull, my first step is to narrow down the likely varieties based on range.  When we were in New Zealand we would see red-beaked gulls and black-backed gulls.  Alberta has large populations of Franklin's and Bonapart's gulls, and out here the glaucus gull seems to be most common.  Even then you get accidentals; while in Alberta we once identified a California gull in the midst of a colony.

The thing that amazes me the most though, is the voracious appetite they possess.  I have never known a gull to dismiss an item of food.  Living, dead, rotting, and even questionable sustenance is never turned down.  Size also seems to be irrelevant.  I have seen a gull attempting to scarf down a starfish larger than its own head.  Their gullet seems to be able to handle anything that can get past its mouth.  Cunning creatures, they also are adept at dropping shellfish from considerable heights to then consume whatever smashed remains they can.  The great contest seems to be getting there before a competitor swoops in.  Any morsel is worth giving chase over.

My favourite story about gulls happened when we were on a field trip for my birding class out of the University of Calgary.  It was a wet, windy, and thoroughly miserable day when we headed out.  A group of 10 students and myself was nestled in a van, everyone with binoculars and a thick coat.  We stopped at a variety of locations and identified many species.  As we continued the weather worsened; the wind increased and it seemed the rain was going sideways.  A Bonapart's gull flew along, with some difficulty, and one of the students cried out, "Look, there goes a Blown-apart gull."  That was all it took and we were all in hysterics.  If there was room, we would have been rolling on the floor.

Thanks for reading.   www.ericspix.com   Eric Svendsen