Urban Scavenger

I photographed this scene late at night, drawn by the way a single pool of light exposed the fragments of urban life that usually go unnoticed. The gull was feeding on scraps by the kerb, a plastic cup discarded nearby, while traffic and people passed outside the frame. What emerged was a study of survival in the margins of the city, where wildlife and waste collide under sodium lamps.

Compositionally, the image hinges on that triangle of illumination falling across the pavement. The lit area acts almost like a stage, isolating the bird against the darker periphery. I placed the gull slightly off-centre, letting the curved kerb and the lines of the paving slabs lead into the subject. The cup and the peel on the ground become secondary actors, anchoring the narrative without overwhelming it.

Technically, shooting in such low light was demanding. I had to open the aperture wide and push the ISO, which introduced softness and some noise. But the resulting shallow depth of field worked to my advantage, softening the background vehicles while keeping the bird sharp enough to hold attention. The light source was directional and warm, which created strong contrasts and a colour cast; I resisted the temptation to neutralise it, as that amber tone is integral to the atmosphere of the street at night.

The photograph sits between documentary and quiet allegory. It is a record of a gull scavenging for food, yet it also hints at larger themes—urban neglect, adaptation, the intersection of human detritus and animal persistence. The scene is mundane, but when held within the frame, it becomes a moment of uneasy beauty.