Sound advice from one of the greats in search of megas on Shetland a year or two back…that and “the biggy always travels alone” are good mantras to keep you looking at this, one of the quieter times of the year.
This is where the blackest of birding black dogs live, and even though it arrives every year at this time, the lull still packs a punch.
But when you start photographing broods of Gadwall from Sandgrounders, you know you’re in trouble…
Odd to think of the time when they were scarce, and the frenzy of texting that would have been sparked by the eight strong brood, them and the successful Tufty families on the marsh of course.
How the world turns, how the world changes.
Two reasonably large gatherings of Swifts over Marine Drive this afternoon, but squinting for white bits amongst the dark missiles ripping through the blue ain’t really conducive to keeping the wheels on the bouncy bouncy tarmac.
And since when did all the Chiffies start singing full blast again?
Best head back to the dunes and ogle rare plants.
And stare in wonder at startingly early Field Gentians (these things usually bloom at the end of August).