On the crest

The sky was grey. In the distance it had invisibly stitched itself to the sea and the north wind was bringing in curtains of rain. The hedge I can see from my bedroom window is crying out for a Pallas’s Warbler. I stood beneath it waiting for the tell-tale call. A little patience and a Long tailed Tit flock lolly-popped their way through the foliage around me. Among them something smaller. As it came into view I was let down gently by this yellow booted mahicanned Goldcrest.

Small giant

So small yet so tenuous; this small Goldcrest had no doubt flown the North Sea before refuelling in cliff top bushes. It never ceases to amaze me why birds, especially ones as small as this, put themselves at risk in such a big way.