Tales of a tribe

Yesterday I wrote a little about birders, in some ways they are more interesting than their quarry. These aren't 'locals', these birders had 'travelled', possibly because they'd heard about the Black-throated Diver, or yesterdays "Once, Twice, Three times a Bittern", but most probably because the Ings have an awesome 'Gull Roost', where hundreds of gulls from all around the area come and roost overnight. It is an impressive sight, but that's not what they really want, they really want to see some of the rarer gulls that are mixed up in the flock, Glaucous, Iceland, Mediterranean, or maybe something really rare.

So they wait, and they wait. Eventually one of them breaks away from the pack and comes and talks to us in the hide

"When's the Gull Roost start?"
"Could be anytime from now"
"Oh, OK, Thanks"
"of course, it could be anywhere around here, sometimes it's a couple of miles down the valley"
"oh"

Of course when I say travelled, for some of the local birders that could mean anywhere foreign, which is fundamentally not West Yorkshire, but also includes the other local reserves. As one of them said today "I tried that Fairburn Ings in the week, I sha'n't bother again" (Fairburn is about 3 miles as the crow flies).