They should have told me to wear a hat, I think grimly as I duck and weave, hands attempting to shield my scalp from the dive-bombing arctic terns.

They seem to believe I'm some kind of threat to their young and are intent on shooing me away. Ouch! Their sharp beaks jab my head as I hurry out of their zone.

It's pretty well impossible as there are thousands of them here. The Inner Farne Islands might be low-lying, separated by just a few kilometres from the eastern English coast, but it's Ibiza for seabirds. They flock here in their hundreds to meet, mate and raise their young. That's in between dumping loads of bird 'paint', searching the sea for food - and harassing innocent tourists. 

There's plenty of the latter too. Most of my fellow-humans on the island are equipped with heavy artillery - of the telephoto variety. Serious twitchers and photographers they have come to get that immortal shot of puffins or razorbills, gulls, oystercatchers, shags or guillemots.

For me, best of all are the puffins. If a cartoonist was given the chance to design a new bird - surely the result would be something like a puffin!

These tiny stocky birds could have leapt off the pages of a children's book, ready-coloured. For me they made up for the discomfort of dodging probing camera lenses and stabbing beaks. Many thousands of breeding pairs nest here and the sight of their comic strip-friendly faces, bright orange beaks stuffed with tiny fish scooped from the ocean, atone for my tingling scalp.

Edward Lear's nursery rhyme, talks about 'a puffin, just the shape of a muffin' and he's pretty correct. These little fellows' short wings are adapted for swimming with a flying technique under water, much like a penguin. In the air, they beat their wings rapidly up to 400 times per minute and skim low over the water.

The Farne Islands lie off the coast of Northumberland, and it's easy to reach them on small tour boats. The trip takes about half an hour and once there, the 'shooters' jump ashore first, eager to find their quarry and take the pictures they've no doubt been dreaming of.

It a short walk to the height of the island - all of 19 metres elevation - but anyway, the real action takes place around the edges where birds hang by their claws to rocks, precariously sheltering their eggs and chicks. Motherhood is always hard work, but you sense that the responsibility of preventing your offspring staggering over the edge and tumbling into the ocean would be even more daunting than for most.

Almost 300 species have been recorded on the Farnes, and around 100,000 pairs of birds nest here each summer. As you'd expect the birds are protected and are part of ongoing research projects. In fact you get the feeling that with those needle-sharp tern beaks, humans are the ones that need more protection.

Maybe next time I'll pack a hat.