Lately, I’ve been working on a Very Important Project, one that involves patience, perseverance, and standing in weird positions in public parks holding a camera aimed at trash cans.
That’s right. I’ve been photographing seagulls.
It all started in early spring, that magical time of year when the snow melts, the days get longer, and — oh yeah — absolutely no birds are around. The warblers are still vacationing in Costa Rica, the herons are fashionably late, and even the chickadees are like, “Nah, we’ll catch you in April.” So there I was, bored, camera in hand, and surrounded by a cast of one: gulls.
Now, gulls don’t exactly scream “nature photography” the way an owl mid-pounce or a bald eagle doing literally anything might. Gulls scream… well, they scream. A lot. Usually while stealing someone’s french fries or trying to pick a fight with a pigeon. But when you’ve got nothing else to shoot, you start looking at gulls a little differently. You begin to notice things. Like how they strut around like they own the place. Or how they can hover like a helicopter while eyeballing a sandwich with laser precision.
It hit me: these birds are not just feathered background noise. They’re characters. They’re bold. They’re expressive. And—dare I say it—they’re beautiful.
Before you click away in disgust, hear me out. If gulls were rare, people would travel thousands of miles to marvel at their striking white coats, their sleek gray wings, their intelligent eyes. We’d have glossy coffee table books called Gulls of the North and hushed BBC nature documentaries narrated by Sir David Attenborough:
“And here, on the rocky shores of the urban park parking lot, the noble gull prepares to launch a precision raid on an unattended bag of chips…”
But because they’re common, we dismiss them. Gulls are the pigeons of the sea — endlessly around, endlessly ignored. It’s bird snobbery, plain and simple.
So I decided to change that. My goal with this project is to capture the beauty, drama, and sheer absurdity of gull life. The elegance of a gull in flight. The glint in its eye as it plots larceny. The feather fluffing rituals that, frankly, put a shampoo commercial to shame.
And you know what? It’s been a blast. In the end, I’ve come to deeply appreciate these goofy, glorious creatures. They may not be rare, but they are absolutely worth our attention.
So the next time you see a gull, don’t just shoo it away or roll your eyes. Take a moment. Look at that snowy plumage. That aerodynamic build. That intense expression that says, “I will take your sandwich and feel no remorse.”
Gulls: they’re not just background noise. They’re stars — they’ve just been waiting for the right lens.
