Last week the seas off our vantage point under a low cliff were the roughest we have ever seen from this peninsula. The strong wind was from the west, where, in the far distance, we could see the snow-capped tops of the hills. Much of the sea to our left was so dominated by the white foam that no water could be seen.
With the tide ebbing, the rock pools on one side were exposed and here various waders were seeking not only food but shelter. Perhaps the weather had affected their behaviour – oystercatchers, purple sandpipers, redshank and turnstone were all mixed up in their search for food. Usually, along this stretch of coastline, these four waders keep together in small, loose groups whether feeding or roosting. The beaks of the different species vary in length, so that when they are probing for food they tend to find different food at varying levels.
As we watched, white foam began to invade the rock pools but the waders paid no heed, not even when flecks of foam settled on their feathers. Above them, herring gulls were trying to make their way into the wind, perhaps seeking shelter around the headland in the harbour. The problem was that the higher the gulls rose in the attempt to move forward, the harder they were being driven back. In the end they just settled on the rocks as if giving up the battle.
For once they were not out at sea, following the small groups of eider that this day were fishing, apparently oblivious to the elements. Normally herring gulls hover over the eiders’ feeding area, waiting for any fragments of food the ducks might leave. The wind had put paid to all that.
Despite the weather, however, two of the drake eiders were displaying to the drab-looking females. I even thought I could hear the “ah-oo-oo” call notes that give them one of their Scots names – coo-doos – as it reminds people of the murmuring of doves.
The only birds to be making any headway in the wind were the juvenile gannets and even they, with their six feet wingspan, were flapping vigorously.
