A beach 'wild' this morning before heading back into the office. The tidelines are littered with rough cut logs, washed up on the storm, and zigzag seaweed trails dusted with sand carried by the wind.
I am sad to see a Gannet washed up on the tide. My favourite sea bird. We watch them from the house, so brightly white against the sea, the first thing you notice, looking for the black wing tips to verify their identity and of course that sharp mid air stall and lightning dive. How yellow its head, and how thick and strong the beak still looks.
My first jellyfish of the season washed up. Starlings scouring the seaweed washed up the beach, and some small birds I cannot identify without binoculars.
The parcel of Oystercatchers move up and down the beach. Wheatears are almost too busy to land, but they do, and quickly take off again, their call barely heard above the sound of the sea. I can imagine it though.
A lone camping Frenchman waves as we pass at a distance on the beach. Later I talk to him and commiserate about the weather, it must have been windy in his camper van last night. Yes and cold, he said. He comes to Mull every 3 or 4 years. His wife hates Scotland, but he loves it, and comes on his own. He seemed happy in spite of the cold. As was I.
