Fish, films and wind farms
The call of the kittiwake.
A British high street. A WHSmith, a Costa, a row of shuttered warehouses.
Flocks of kittiwakes.
Rows of spikes and thick nets on rooftops and windows have done little to deter the small white gulls arrayed along almost every building.
Ledges above shopfronts are draped with drying seaweed, hanging in matted tendrils baked grey in the sun. Without even needing to look up, the nests are clearly signposted by swathes of guano whitewashing the pavements.
The fishing industry here is next to extinct, but the smell of fish lingers heavy in the humid air, the memory of a livelihood.
I am in Lowestoft, invited by Sunrise Film Festival where my documentary The Birdwatchers is being screened as part of the Our Natural World segment (in the company of some rather splendid work from other filmmakers).
In the darkness of the cinema I am transported for an hour - before emerging again into a drizzle-dashed half-sun and the screams of kit-ti-wake; ki-ti-wake; ki-ti-wake echoing from the rooftops.
The most easterly point of the UK - gifted with a swift amber sunrise across a clear, sandy bay - has become a popular spot for breeding kittiwakes. Individually they look like pleasant little birds, small gulls with soft creamy down and big opal eyes. But they make a hell of a mess. Passing customers risk more than just rain when they duck into shops lined with kittiwake nests. It’s unsurprising that many local business owners don’t take too kindly to them.
Lowestoft sprung up on the coast as a fishing town, and the skeletons of fishing ships and weather-beaten statues of fishermen stand testament to a bygone era. The bounty of the sea is now significantly diminished, and there is no place for a thriving fishing industry in a world without any fish.
The damage we’ve inflicted on the ocean has affected the kittiwakes, too: with a diet of exclusively fish, 40% of them have disappeared in the last few decades. Kittiwakes are red listed, on a road to extinction that is accelerating thanks to climate change.
My visit to Lowestoft happens to correspond with a time of the year the kittiwakes are ashore. Outside of breeding season they live out at sea, often thousands of miles from the nearest land.
But breeding season is in full swing, and they have happily taken to urban environments showing how adaptable they can be to towns and cities. So how do you create a space that works for both people and kittiwakes?
The Lowestoft Kittiwake Partnership was set up by the Suffolk Wildlife Trust to bridge the gap between kittiwakes and local businesses through a range of initiatives, including the hiring of a dedicated Kittiwake Officer1. The officer’s goal is to shift people’s mindsets away from thinking of the kittiwake as a pest, and engage corporations on the welfare of the seabirds.
As Lowestoft’s fishing industry declined, it looked to other economies to plug the gap to keep the town alive. The North Sea oil and gas industry did the job for a little while, but with resources dwindling it has now become a leading region for renewable energy.
The sea beyond East Anglia is already the site of a multitude of wind farms. Greater Gabbard and East Anglia ONE by themselves generate power for over a million British homes, and Ørsted’s Hornsea 3 - due to come online in 2027 - will power another three million. But the disturbance from the construction of turbines means even less of a functioning ecosystem for the kittiwakes. So these companies need to step up.
Recent visitors to Lowestoft are greeted - other than the squawking of nesting kittiwakes - by two heavy structures out to sea.
Built by Ørsted as part of a compensation deal when granted permission for Hornsea 3, these towers are artificial kittiwake nests2.
Each structure has the capacity to house 500 pairs of breeding kittiwakes, and features single-way transparent panels for researchers to observe them unobtrusively.
Closer to shore, Vattenfall3 and Scottish Power4 have built blocks of kittiwake ‘hotels’ to provide shelter for around 430 breeding pairs of birds.
By providing stable, reliable nesting spots the hope is that breeding will be more productive, minimising the impact the wind farms have on kittiwake migration and feeding, and reducing the numbers of birds snarled up in poorly maintained netting and spikes on buildings.
The project demonstrates how corporations can collaborate with communities, NGOs and scientists to achieve more than just profit and help balance impact.
It does need to be treated with caution though. Does it send a signal that anything can be destroyed if we simply prop up an artificial replica nearby? We can’t relocate the orangutan into a block of flats once we’ve levelled every tree in Borneo.
And of course, as the kittiwakes have demonstrated, they’re happy to nest anywhere. They aren’t wanting for suitable nesting locations - it’s the food that has disappeared.
A recent ban on the fishing of sandeels - vital food for seabirds like kittiwakes - should give seabirds at least a bit of a break. It’s a huge win for the environment. But the ecosystem also needs to be left in peace to properly recover.
The wild needs to become wild again.
In a global environmental crisis we have to be thankful efforts like the kittiwake hotels are being put into place at all. Studies have proven that conservation works, and any attempt to support a species other than our own is laudable.
But maybe the genie is out of the bottle. Humanity’s relationship with Earth will remain a delicate balancing act for the rest of our time on it. The rapid scale up of renewables is necessary to decarbonise the filthy national grid, as long as it is replacing fossil fuels and not just making a larger energy mix and driving up emissions. Perhaps we will need to accept the destruction of some habitats as a necessary loss to transition to clean energy and stamp out emissions fast.
In a 2009 interview with The Guardian5, environmentalist Chris Packham made the case for letting pandas go the way of the dodo - limited time and resources shouldn’t be spent on saving one or two flagship species when we should be putting that into preserving key global biodiversity hotspots and driving systems change. Agree or disagree, it’s likely we will have to make some tough decisions in the coming years about where we place our efforts to get the most impact.
On the quiet Lowestoft coast, where the lingering smell of fish blends with that of fried donuts, the kittiwakes have been given respite from unwelcoming spikes and nets. The partnerships between small businesses, large businesses and the Wildlife Trusts are making strides towards healing a fractured relationship.
Only by fundamentally redefining our attitude towards the natural world, by looking at the ocean as an asset vital for the preservation of all life on Earth and not as a resource to be plundered for profit, will the kittiwake bounce back from the brink.
If we can do that, then maybe, just maybe, the next time I return to Suffolk every mile of coastline will once more echo with the cries of kit-ti-wake! Kit-ti-wake! Kit-ti-wake!
Ooh thanks for this. My partner's mum lives not far from Lowestoft but, despite having seen the 'hotels' I've never really noticed them much in the town. I'll keep more of an eye out next time I'm there. Newcastle/Gateshead have been my favourite kittiwake watching spots so far!
This is such a fascinating read. I loved it. I never knew there were such things as a kittiwake hotel! I live down on the coast (after a recent move from London back to my hometown) and our town could also be called an old fishing village although the fishing thrives to some extent. As I watch the birds cruise across the sea in the morning I do wonder how the increased urbanisation and tourism of the area is affecting the balance. Really loved this, thank you!