07 December, 2020

The Nutmeg Of Consolation

Sometimes you have to suffer for your birding. The Goddess of Birding can be a harsh mistress and She demands we her acolytes make sacrifices to show our devotion to Her. Time, discomfort, [outright pain and injury], the ridicule of the unthinking masses; all these we offer up to Her, and in return She may at Her pleasure give us such sights as lift our hearts unto the divine.

I had Commitments this last weekend, Things To Do, and I believe I did them well [the Irish Coffee Cake in particular.. :) ].  I had, thus, only Saturday to go chasing a bird I honestly doubted I'd ever even get within a hundred miles of, if not a thousand...

I gave it my all; I covered ground, I withstood wind, rain, and sideways hail, fought through mud, flood, and thorns, and stayed longer than all others.

But She did not smile.

As dusk mounted, I stopped off on my way home at Hayle, and finding Ryan's empty, I walked through another shower, played frogger with the traffic, and stared into the wind at a Lot of gulls with their backs to me. Seawatching teaches a few very particular skills, and Use Scope In Storm is one of them. Thus I picked out the Ring-billed Gull at horrific range [it also turned its head at a useful moment, which admittedly made it easier, but I was already on it* :P ]. So better than last time I was there looking for one.

A small consolation, and I think if you get the reference you'll appreciate it's quite a good one... :)
This post will be extended and possibly extensively rewritten, with some awful photos [oh the gulls are bad...] at some point when I can face it. 
The knowledge the Sociable was tarting about to all and sundry again today is bittersweet.

Guess where I'll be next Saturday?
Be Seeing You...
[[*Tertial crescents, people. :) ]]

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