The daily breath

a dopping of goosander

I went to the seaside. In February. What can I say? It’s as close as staid old age gets to rebellion. I can’t ride a Harley with a horned helmet, so I go to the sea in February. And no, I didn’t go in. I mean: I’m rebellious, but I’m not suicidal. I was there to meet some of the birdlife that uses Britain as its temporary home. A surprising amount of wildlife does. Many flying species we think of

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