The atmosphere up on the cliffs this morning was completely different
from yesterday with more sound, more light and more birdsong. The Sun
seemed slightly redder than usual: there was a haze along the horizon,
but whether this was Portuguese smoke or Saharan sand I don't know.
Waves had been whipped up and were rolling along the rocks giving an
undulating rumble, making some of the finest background music you will
find anywhere. Behind me in the Gorse
the chatter of birds was as constant as the waves, with Robin and Wren
trying to out-shout each other, then suddenly a Firecrest popped up.
This tiny little bird, our smallest and about the weight of a 20p coin,
makes the Wren look positively chunky and disappeared just as quickly as
it arrived.
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