The petrel pup

Lunchtime's seawatch descended into farce, can't see me taking Jack up Goldcliff Point again. First off, we had to sit up on top by the anchor (I said anchor) as I didn't think the little fella would take to tip-toeing along the sea-wall; then it was nigh impossible to get him to sit still and concentrate; and finally, it turns out he's the biggest stringer since Nambu, Nielsen and Susskind. Every Lesser Black-back was announced as "Skua!" or "Large shearwater!"; the final straw came in the form of, what will probably become known as, 'The Pagodroma incident'. As four of the white doves from the farm circled the point Jack shouts "SNOW PETREL!", grabs my phone and starts ringing out the news, it was the devil's own job to wrestle it off him and, during the melee he nicked my hat and legged it, laughing hysterically. I know he's only two, and I'm sure he'll learn that you can't go ringing out duff gen on somebody else's mobile (especially to RBA, I mean Birdguides will report anything but it would never have got on the pagers anyway), but enough was enough and I decided a walk up to Porton House and back might be less trying. Nothing too exciting leapt out in front of us but we managed 2 Knot, 1 Common Sandpiper, 20 Ringed Plover, 1 Whimbrel, 2 Rock Pipit and a few Wheatear.

Jack, immediately post-Pagodroma,... no Jack, you can't come ringing tomorrow.

NB. Please note, the furry fiend was on a lead throughout and his poo was lovingly collected and binned,... it's a right bugger getting it out from under your fingernails mind, I suppose it does keep your fingers warm though,... whaddya mean you put your hand inside the bag?

PS. Jack says they were 'Lessers' by the way,... stringy git.