A Fling* of Sandpipers

After a" bracing" walk along the beach, we repaired to Nick's Cove for a seafood lunch and memories of an evening in Mallaig when we sat on the seawall at the ferry slip eating fish and chips, freezing (OilMan and me) and  cheerfully saying it was "balmy" (Carol).  We finally settled on "bracing" as an acceptable compromise, and hastened inside for a wee dram or two.

Today, we sat and watched through the picture window of the restaurant as this large flock of birds rose and wheeled, landed and rose again, before settling on an outcropping of rocks to roost. Every time I went outside to try to capture this spectacle, they sat as still as the rocks they were perched upon. A passing waiter told me that they were sandpipers. After subjecting people at the adjacent tables to the freezing blasts from the outdoors, I'd give up, only to watch them rise and wheel again the moment I sat down at our table.

After finishing our clam chowder and crab cakes, Ranger Carol marched out on the adjacent boat ramp, stamping her feet and clapping. Her ranger skills caused them to take to the sky one last time, and she explained that this is how bird counts are done. A picture is taken as they rise, and the birds in the picture can be counted.

The drive home took us through green pastures dotted with cows, sheep, lambs and the occasional red barn. The sky was a cloudless blue. Various raptors swirled past or sat on fenceposts. A few tiny towns, one block long,  lined with Victorian buildings, provided a picture of bucolic peace and times past. We arrived home exhilarated by our bracing walk, sated and sleepy with food and lulled by the drive. Now we're all ready to settle into our books, our beds. or our devices.

*OilMan googled "group names for animals" and came up with "fling" to describe flying sandpipers. He also came up with "nag" for a group of women and "jerk" for a group of men, which leads us to believe that the whole thing is tongue in cheek at best.