As we slosh through a wet summer it’s good to spend a little time reflecting on water as a vibrant and vivifying thing.

This is a book about gulls, but it’s a good deal else, too: it’s an exploration of waste, a rummaging, bent double and elbows-deep, in human detritus.

Until the flock tilts towards the just-risen sun, I’m not sure what I’m watching, over the arable fields that abut the seashore here.

They are haunted by visions. They are visited by strange dreams. They are the nature writers, and they bring us wisdom from the wilderness.