This morning found me up the Blorenge in search of Red Grouse, a potential Gwent tick due to the fact that I'd never bothered going looking for them. As far as I could tell, most of the mountain was covered in grouse poo, which was lucky, as this, and the odd feather, was all that was keeping my spirits up after the first hour or so of searching had resulted in exactly zero grouse. However, on the third traverse of the summit, a cracking male and his missus leapt from the heather and whirred off down the slope in the vague direction of Abergavenny (ka-ba ka-ba kabak kabak kabak karrrrrrrr). Unfortunately all the action was a tad rapid for photography, however, if you are into poo and feathers see below.
I spent the afternoon partaking of a sort of ornithological penance for the morning's good fortune; a dead 45 minutes of seawatching from Goldcliff Point was followed by a pretty uneventful hour at the pools. Only the first seen (as opposed to heard) Little Owl was new for the year.