Well I'm back from my travels, pleased to be reunited with my books, perhaps a little less pleased with the prospect of returning to work first thing on Monday morning. It hasn't been a very bookish holiday, there was so much to do, and so many people to see that I didn't get much time for reading - although the small quantity was more than made up for by quality.
Stealthy Puffins creeping up on us, and Puffins ready for their close up. They really are delightful birds, smaller than I remember, comical to watch (though what the last one thought of me and my commando style crawl across a cliff top to get it's picture perhaps wouldn't bear much inspection) and understandably popular. Love Puffins.
We also had the chance to do a hopefully good deed after finding an Oyster-catcher caught up on wool, it was to weak to make much of an attempt at running away so I decided to catch it and ask at the nearest house if we could borrow some scissors to try and cut it free. It was lucky for the bird that the lady we found was a retired vet, she had stitch cutters and managed to cut away all the crap so that it seemed likely the bird would not only survive but keep it's foot as well. I hope so anyway, the Oyster-catchers (dialect name Shalder) call is deeply evocative and although there's no particular shortage of them I do feel the more the generally merrier.