Tough Love
Despite their murderous-sounding moniker, anti-roosting ‘spikes’ are in fact harmless old softies. Universally used to deter pigeons, they are also extremely useful for those besieged by seagulls.
Plastic, round-tipped and environmentally friendly, they don’t actually skewer the birds on landing – rather, they deter them from landing in the first place. To further assuage any guilt by the user, they are also recommended by the RSPB.
Having seagulls roost on your roof is not pleasant. The neurotic parents dive-bomb anyone within 50 yards of the nest while the young are taught to stamp their feet in a group to imitate rainfall and trick earthworms to come to the surface. But there are no earthworms (or indeed earth) on most roofs so the noise of their ‘practising’ from dawn till dusk is deafening.
When not stomping around, they tune up their vocal chords with a rising scale of hysterical squawking. Having waited for the last crop of this year’s 30 chicks to finally leave in search of their own prime spot near the takeaway bins, Neil, who has risked having his scalp removed while attempting to paint the outside of the house for the last two months, is in the process of carpeting the gulleys with these plastic antennae. Or he would be if the hardware shop hadn’t actually run out of stock – such is the popularity of this product, it’s amazing we aren’t all buying shares. Increasingly, however, these canny scavengers are learning to ignore the softtipped spikes so scientists have developed a new system of using plastic ‘dummy’ eggs.
Homeowners can now lay (as it were) plastic eggs in nests on their roofs and await the return of mating pairs – seagulls mate for life in the same spot each year. Whereupon, presumably, the would-be parents peer down, spot the bulging nest and think: ‘Ahh, there’s some we laid earlier.’ The scientists claim they will then attempt to incubate the fake eggs instead of laying real ones.
It is a kind of avian birth control. After about a month or so, they eventually get bored and up and leave. It might appear mean, but then so is having your ice cream whipped out of your hand as you stroll on the promenade.
Next week: Artists’ colony
Plastic, round-tipped and environmentally friendly, they don’t actually skewer the birds on landing – rather, they deter them from landing in the first place. To further assuage any guilt by the user, they are also recommended by the RSPB.
Having seagulls roost on your roof is not pleasant. The neurotic parents dive-bomb anyone within 50 yards of the nest while the young are taught to stamp their feet in a group to imitate rainfall and trick earthworms to come to the surface. But there are no earthworms (or indeed earth) on most roofs so the noise of their ‘practising’ from dawn till dusk is deafening.
When not stomping around, they tune up their vocal chords with a rising scale of hysterical squawking. Having waited for the last crop of this year’s 30 chicks to finally leave in search of their own prime spot near the takeaway bins, Neil, who has risked having his scalp removed while attempting to paint the outside of the house for the last two months, is in the process of carpeting the gulleys with these plastic antennae. Or he would be if the hardware shop hadn’t actually run out of stock – such is the popularity of this product, it’s amazing we aren’t all buying shares. Increasingly, however, these canny scavengers are learning to ignore the softtipped spikes so scientists have developed a new system of using plastic ‘dummy’ eggs.
Homeowners can now lay (as it were) plastic eggs in nests on their roofs and await the return of mating pairs – seagulls mate for life in the same spot each year. Whereupon, presumably, the would-be parents peer down, spot the bulging nest and think: ‘Ahh, there’s some we laid earlier.’ The scientists claim they will then attempt to incubate the fake eggs instead of laying real ones.
It is a kind of avian birth control. After about a month or so, they eventually get bored and up and leave. It might appear mean, but then so is having your ice cream whipped out of your hand as you stroll on the promenade.
Next week: Artists’ colony