Otherwise engaged over the last couple of days (trying to finish a paper for the next London Bird Report amongst other things) but safe in the knowledge that the south-westerlies have persisted and the skies have remained clear, the Mrs and I both felt like an evening walk, and so took off along the cliff paths and down onto the Brigg just after high tide.
Enjoying the waders and seal pups towards the Brigg end, I was delighted to hear that fantastically distinctive call above me ("like the other tern calls played backwards", as Amity brilliantly put it at the time), and looked up to find three Roseate Terns patrolling the rocky shoreline.
