They normally announce their presence with raucous calls, but these were silent but for the faint hiss of feather on feather as they beat their wings. It was the hiss that made me look up, and I was surprised to see so many gulls being so quiet. Several hundred flew low overhead.

On their way from one freshly ploughed field to another, I suppose there was no need for conversation.

One lone gull cawed once. And the rustling wings moved on.