Seafood seems to be on the menu in the bird world at the moment. Today I came across the second seagull in a week eating a starfish (yes that’s a starfish in the picture not, as on normal occasions, a gullet-full of chips). This looks quite charming, the pretty star shape held in the beak of this snowy white seaside icon, until you realise that the hapless echinoderm is probably still alive.

And then there is the additional dietary supplement of whelks. These, being heavily armoured, create something of a problem for both seagulls and crows alike. How do you get at them when they are in their shells? The answer seems to be to fly to a great height and drop them so the shells shatter when they hit the ground, then swoop down to pick through the broken pieces.

Of course doing so means that, for a few seconds, the whelk is not in your possession, meaning some other bird nearer the ground could nip in and steal these tasty morcels. Indeed this is a favourite strategy among those of a lazier, or smarter, persuasion and I have seen numerous fights break out over ownership. I had thought that this is how crows get hold of these shellfish. They certainly aren’t known for their swimming skills. But then a few weeks ago I was on the beach near the end of the day, to see the man from the whelk stall trundle across the pebbles with a huge plastic crate, which he then upturned unceremoniously, dumping a great mound of mollusc shells at the water’s edge.

At once there was a riot of flapping wings as both gulls and crows descended on this prize, first of all squabbling for the best bits, then drawing back, nonplussed, when they realised that most of the contents had been eaten. Nevertheless there were enough scraps left to warrant perseverance and I saw as many crows as gulls flying away with shells held in their beaks. It seems the crows have learned from the gulls what then to do with them. The crack when the shell hits the ground is quite distinct.

Now all I want to know is why there seem to be so few tourist injuries resulting from being hit from a great height by plummeting seashells? Is this luck, or is the tourist board hushing things up? After all Aeschylus the Ancient Greek tragedian suffered a similar fate when an eagle mistook his bald head for a rock and dropped a tortoise on him, killing him outright. Or maybe Brighton birds are smart enough to realise that killing tourists diminishes further possible food sources including bread, cake, kebabs, chips and the hot dogs I’ve mentioned in other posts?