puddleshark

A bright icy afternoon, frost lingering on the grass, and a thin layer of ice on the puddles. Set off down the farm track to Middlebere, with the setting sun at my back, casting a long shadow.

In fields beside the track, hairy young cattle watching me with great curiosity.

I had planned to sit a while in the bird hide on the edge of the harbour, but when I reached the hide I found it stuffed full of birders, all sitting intently, binoculars to their eyes, in religious silence. I didn't stay. Wandered back along the track, and up onto a little hill that has a view across of another of the inlets.

A white hind. Just a white hind. Not necessarily a Sign that I need to go on a quest.

A flock of Lapwings wheeling over the water. Too far away to photograph, but very beautiful. As they turn in the air, their black-and-white plumage shimmers above the water, and they vanish and re-appear.

A group of teenagers came up the path onto the hill. They were polite and friendly, but loud, so I left them the viewpoint and walked on. But the teenagers were as restless as the Lapwings, and I soon heard their voices coming along the track behind me. When we got back to the road, they took off in a souped up boy-racer hatchback... but didn't go far. Shortly afterwards I came across the car pulled over onto the verge, and the teenagers all stood taking pictures of the sunset with their phones. It was a gorgeous sunset.