Out in the water in the Arctic, the evidence of commercial fishing's impact is staring me in the face, with beady eyes.
The name 'fulmar' comes from the Old Norse for 'foul gull'. Fulmars are legendary for their foul, fishy stomach oil, which they projectile vomit over anything that threatens them.
Still, what they may lack in social charm, these birds make up for in grace. They dip into slipstreams and skim effortlessly low over the water.
Through the dense, cold fog on the water, the fulmars sense us as soon as we set off. As our inflatable bashes through huge slate waves towards a Russian trawler, a cloud of them gather above us.
They're hoping that we're one of the dozens of trawlers that dot this otherwise bleak seascape. Their black eyes glare balefully at us as they swoop off, empty-beaked, to join the thick flock hanging over the trawler that has just emerged from the fog.
Their population has increased exponentially in the past 150 years. The reason? Trawlers. As climate change pushes fish further and further North, melting summer sea ice allows fishing vessels to penetrate ever higher in the Arctic. The fulmars are never far behind, gorging on the trail of offal and bycatch spewed out by the trawlers.
The Arctic food web is delicate and interconnected, as are food webs all over the planet. But what sets the Arctic apart is exactly how little is understood of the complexities of this harsh environment. That doesn't stop trawlers from dragging enormous nets across the sea bed, scraping up and crushing everything in their paths. For now, the damage they do is largely hidden under deep, cold water - but they can't hide the evidence that's flying in the air all around them.
Add your voice to 5 million people demanding the Arctic be off limits to oil drilling and industrial fishing >> www.savethearctic.org
