JWN Andrewes
Poor Judge of Pasta.
December 24th art I
Finally back in the field. My precious few free days recently have been blighted by foul weather (gale force winds combined with driving rain, and heavy snow) and then I went and shunted someone on icy roads on the morning commute (oh for three more feet of tarmac, would have been fine) which ate up more valuable days. But today, car fixed, weather (relatively) clement and armed with a free pass the North Wales coast was calling. First up was Llanddulas, where on Thursday a very nice gentleman (I know because I met him today) had found an immature Glaucous Gull. It was still there today, in fact it was practically the first bird we saw when we arrived at the right stretch of beach, flying up from the beach and down to the water's edge, and shortly thereafter back up the beach where it alighted. It soon became apparent what the attraction of this particular spot was, as the Gull started to tuck in to a porpoise corpse washed up on the shingle. It was a cracking beast, as Glonks tend to be, and we spent quite a while admiring his table manners before we decamped for Kinmel Bay.
Finally back in the field. My precious few free days recently have been blighted by foul weather (gale force winds combined with driving rain, and heavy snow) and then I went and shunted someone on icy roads on the morning commute (oh for three more feet of tarmac, would have been fine) which ate up more valuable days. But today, car fixed, weather (relatively) clement and armed with a free pass the North Wales coast was calling. First up was Llanddulas, where on Thursday a very nice gentleman (I know because I met him today) had found an immature Glaucous Gull. It was still there today, in fact it was practically the first bird we saw when we arrived at the right stretch of beach, flying up from the beach and down to the water's edge, and shortly thereafter back up the beach where it alighted. It soon became apparent what the attraction of this particular spot was, as the Gull started to tuck in to a porpoise corpse washed up on the shingle. It was a cracking beast, as Glonks tend to be, and we spent quite a while admiring his table manners before we decamped for Kinmel Bay.