.... which is arguably the worst pun to darken this journal thus far, but is also somehow irrestible, so there it is. Three always beautiful, always spirit-lifting Wheatears appeared out of nowhere onto the rocks of the Brigg during a seawatch the other day, constituting just about the only passerine migrants to grace the area of late.
Hardly a rare occurence, but a reminder that there are pocket-sized, long-distance migrants out there, making their way to Africa as we speak, even though they may not be stopping off and tipping their hats to us here in Filey quite as often as we'd like at the second.
Not that all is lost, by any standards; multitudes of other migrants are gushing through, especially at sea; more of them soon. Still, a wind with any kind of eastern component would be more welcome than ever; any time in the next couple of weeks will be just fine.
