In the beginning, humans seem so very far away, the only sign of them the twinkling lights of Montreal on the horizon across the water. Deslauriers Island is home to one of largest colonies of ring-billed gulls in the world, and initially it feels like a realm for them alone: a whole legion of elegant white birds gathered together on the grass, flapping, crouching, calling, mating, the camera right in their midst, right down at their level, seeing as they do. But this non-human utopia is evoked in order to be progressively undermined, as markers are placed in the ground, traps set and specimens captured. Some will be released with leg rings or daubed-on markings, but others won’t be so lucky.
The sky over the landfill site is thick with beating wings and when the beaks screech as one, the sound is deafening. No wonder the voice on the radio says they’re losing control, although that hardly justifies the solution they find. Birds hunt birds in the wild, but there’s something particularly savage about seeing it be guided by human hand. At the beginning of the 20th century, the ring-billed gull was nearly hunted to extinction, but their life circle continues unabated here – who can blame nature for finding a way? Yet the stakes are different now, and the old laws no longer apply. Will the meek still inherit the earth?