The sketch should focus not on birds alone but derive its energy from the underlying rocks and surrounding atmosphere.
This place, Bass Rock, is a basaltic plug, the core of an ancient volcano thrust up into what is now a shallow sea. The many thousands of gannets who come here each year to breed, the predatory gulls looking to steal an egg, are mere décor on this venerable surface.
This paraphrases the guidance from John Busby who brings to this subject both breadth and depth of artistic understanding. Both scientifically and artistically, we have to draw in the surroundings to animate the bird.
Sitting surrounded by these large birds, overwhelmed by their noise and smell, it is hard to escape their essential beakiness. This is what grabs the eye, literally if they were given the chance.
This is a fundamental error in draughtsmanship. The beak is closer to the length of the head.
The watercolour headlining this post was painted at the end of this first day, an attempt to decorate the rock with the nesting birds preening, displaying, defending their sites. At home, I reworked this to get a more striking balance of tones and colours and added the many other gannets careening through the air.
This was the original.
Reflecting further, were we to imagine the landscape looking back at us, the distinction between gannet and sapient ape would be trivial, both minor variations on that recent innovation, the walking fish. What links us, aerobic metabolism, quadrapedal morphology and the rest is greater than what divides us. But neither ape nor bird are mere superficial dots, for both carry forward that metabolic drive, that spark of fire that first ignited in submarine fumaroles long before the Bass Rock volcano exploded and that has shaped this planet as profoundly as any other force.