Caribbean vortex my ass.


The promise of a plume of warm air pushed across the Atlantic by a “Caribbean vortex” was enough to lure out a flotilla of Mr Whippy vans which took up key strategic positions along the coast today, but it was hardly “99 with all the trimmings” weather.
As good a name for an icy as “Caribbean Vortex” would be, it still felt very much like February at Marshside.
The site was grey and gloomy, and mizzly murk repeatedly reduced visibility drastically.
The newly arrived two Avocets quickly hunched up to shiver on long blue legs off Nels while the BHGs were busy reclaiming the Sandplant lagoons for another noisy breeding season.


It was mild enough to coax Coltsfoot into flower, but the mist rolled in by the time I got up to Crossens, where I could just make out three Dunlin amongst the Wigeon and Lapwings, and one of the Ravens towered above the Carrion Crows as it tucked into a carcass.
About 200 Golden Plover were wheeling around the landward areas, but there were only about 70-100 Pinkies on the outer marsh.