An unfrozen lake in early March awakens the imagination, tempts spring-ish daydreams out of hibernation. A gossip of gulls congregating on Rosslyn’s boathouse pier — or more accurately, the rocky ruins of a long-gone crib dock that once extended east from the boathouse — give the impression that warmer days are nigh. Chattering like a flock of snowbirds fresh back from seasonal migrations to warmer parts, this aggregation of gulls are swapping scuttlebutt and inflating fish stories, don’t you think?
And while a “gossip of gulls” might not be the commonly accepted collective noun for a gathering of gulls, it strikes me as 100% appropriate. There are other names, and for those sticklers stuck on accuracy I’ll get to them in a minute. But first, if you will, imagine yourself lakeside, looking down the bank toward then beyond Rosslyn’s boathouse where 20-30 gulls, perched on the rocky outcrop, babbling and squawking, shrieking and screeching. All at once. From time to time there’s a physical squabble. Shoving. Pecking. A flap of wings and a flutter of feathers. The cacophony rises, falls, and resumes.
First things first. This evocative photograph was taken by a friend and sent to me as a message. I think. Or an email? Or a social media post? And I’m embarrassed to admit that I no longer recall who deserves the credit. I usually make a note in the metadata, but somehow this one slipped through the cracks. So, if you recognize this image, please let me know so that I can credit you!
Now back to the gathering of gulls that I’m inclined to dub a gossip of gulls. To balance my exuberance (and check my nomenclatural ambitions), let’s look to a more learned source.
The most common collective nouns for groups of seagulls are a colony, flock and scavenging of seagulls.
[…]
Other terms for groups of seagulls;
- A flotilla of seagulls
- A pack of seagulls
- A screech of seagulls
- A squabble of seagulls
- A swoop of seagulls
(Source: Birdfact)
I must concede that several of these are pretty good. A scavenging of gulls is especially appealing, having personally lost a french fry or two to a brave bird while tucking into a lakeside lunch at the Old Dock Restaurant. And a flotilla offers a familiar visual reference to the raft-ups often visible just offer beach midsummer. Dozens of gulls bobbing together. And a squabble certainly rings true since most of us have witnessed a pair of gulls wrestling over a fish or a scavenged scrap of something tasty enough to bicker about.
Another snapshot of the stone ruins, this time sans seagulls, counters the cacophony that I’ve described above. The soothing swish and swirl of Lake Champlain, the lap of waves against the boathouse pier, the distant sound of a train or the Essex-Charlotte ferry. And then we hear it, a gossip of gulls. Or perhaps, a scold of gulls?
A scold of gulls is used to describe a group of gulls making loud, harsh noises. (Source: The Collective Nouns)
A scold of seagulls sounds more appropriate than a colony, but not as accurate as a gossip of gulls. Which reminds me, I’ve flip-flopped a few times between gull and seagull. Which is it? Although the chatty birds are often (usually?) referred to colloquially as seagulls, the proper name is gulls. However there is another intriguing (but confusing) name that I came across when researching the collective noun for gulls. I’ve never actually witnessed it’s use firsthand, but it bears mentioning.
An older name for gulls is mews… (Source: Wikipedia)
I did warn you that it was confusing, right? Mews?! Decidedly catlike for a decidedly un-catlike critter.
Now let’s agree to leave behind the best designation for a gathering of these gabby birds. For now. Perhaps not forever. Before wrapping up this post I’d like to fortify the fluff with something useful like a little more clarity on the varieties of gulls we see on Lake Champlain.
Affectionately known in many places as garbage gulls, ring-billed gulls feel preternaturally comfortable around humans…
[…]
You’ll see more ring-billed gulls in the Adirondacks than any other species—such as herring gulls, greater black-backed gulls, lesser back-blacked gulls and laughing gulls—and you will without doubt hear them, arguably more often than you would like… — John Thaxton (Source: Adirondack Explorer)
Between the “garbage gulls” moniker and an apparent aversion to the sounds of gull gossip, there’s a bit of condescension creeping into this article. But there’s also an anthropomorphic layer that intrigues me. Gulls comfort with humans is obviously a learned adaptation rooted in many generations of efficient scavenging. And it overlaps with the gulls alleged intelligence. Apparently not quite crow smart, but damned close. Clever birds. And then there’s my first encounter with “laughing gulls”, a well suited name if ever there was one. But, I’m not sure it is sufficiently distinguishing since *all* gulls appear to be laughing, no?
Now, to the names of local gulls, let’s add some identification help.
Here is a quick guide to the adults of our three most abundant species: The herring gull has a clean white body and tail with a uniform gray upper-side, black wingtips with white spots, an orange dot on a yellow bill, and pink legs.
The ring-billed gull is a smaller version of the herring gull except that it has (fittingly) a black ring around its bill and yellow legs.
The great black-backed gull, the largest gull in the world, looks a bit like a herring gull except that its upper-side is slate black (not gray like most other gulls). — Bryan Pfeifer (Source: The Outside Story)
Now you’re ready to head out gull gawking. Good luck identifying varieties, and consider while you’re ogling (and listening) whether a “gossip of gulls” isn’t a pretty fitting descriptor. Here’s my final pitch…
A Gossip of Gulls, Poem
Gulls gather on rocky ruins
of a crib dock reduced
from steam yacht pier
to rock bar roost.
At least two dozen
ring-billed gulls
babble and squawk,
swapping scuttlebutt,
fluffing fish stories.
All of a sudden
a squabble erupts—
shoving and pecking,
shrieking and screeching,
flapping of wings,
flutter of feathers-
but then, as quickly,
an abrupt detente,
tittering laughter,
cacophony calms.
A gossip of gulls.
What do you think?