We are woken up at dawn by a peculiar creaking noise, Jim dresses hurriedly and explores outside only to startle a small covey of grey partridge pecking in the sand close by.
The day warms up after a frosty start, and it is quite pleasant even with a light offshore breeze. We walk along the shore over low flat dunes where most of the vegetation has been grazed down by rabbits. Sea rocket is in flower, and a charm of goldfinches feasts on the seedpods of other crucifers, their red, black and gold markings showing brightly in the sun. There are meadow pipits and white wagtails, stonechats and reed buntings, blackbirds, song thrushes, robins, dunnocks, wrens and linnets all in small numbers. Larger numbers of skylarks and starlings twitter as they scour the dunes for breakfast, and a single snow bunting calls from the shore.
The tide is out and so are the bait diggers. A crow, too, finds some prize on the beach and its mates are threatening hell if they didn't get a share. A lone ringed plover plays stop‑start amongst the worm casts. Magpies make their usual complaints but the appearance of a female kestrel causes hubbub from most species.
The sea surface and the rocky islets are occupied by black‑headed and herring gulls, cormorants and shags. Eight small duck, which appear to be the same as those we saw at dusk yesterday, are, in daylight, clearly long‑tailed duck, all females and immatures and not a long tail between them. Watching is difficult because of their habit of diving almost simultaneously and then reappearing 15 ‑ 20 seconds later a short distance away, meanwhile our attention has been taken by a cormorant or something else flying through. When the long‑tails preen they sit up in the water on their tails and bob around like corks.
Away from the shore the dunes are even lower and flatter; one area has been set aside for recreation, and includes a go‑kart track. As it is deserted of people, we just wander around. Behind a patch of gorse showing off its yellow flowers, there is a development of holiday villages and campsites. A sympetrum dragonfly lands on a half-built wall to sun itself, and proves unusually cooperative when I take its photograph.
Meanwhile Jim had finds a dartford warbler skulking in a gorse bush. It stays around long enough for me to get a glimpse of it through the telescope ‑ grey upper-parts, rufous under-parts, red eye and long cocked tail were quite distinctive. Its call is a sort of explosive rattle, and is a useful identification point.
The impression of spring increases when a red admiral butterfly flies past; as we stop for a closer look at it, a sparrowhawk flies up out of the ditch in front of us and disappears between the empty holiday camp buildings. It must have been either hunting low along the ditch or perhaps taking a drink in the bottom and was unable to tolerate our presence any longer.
Conifers and shrubs have been planted in the campsite to screen the pitches (continental campsites seem to be good at this) and they are full of chiff‑chaffs, goldcrests, thrushes and great, blue and coal tits. Firecrests show themselves particularly well.
Some of the conifers have a few branches tipped with white candy floss, which, on closer inspection, proves to be the silken tents of pine processionary moth caterpillars. These caterpillars live communally in the tents from autumn to spring; at night they march out in single file to feed on the pine needles. A few caterpillars are outside the tent today ‑ small orange and brown hairy creatures with a reputation for having extremely irritating properties. They are common in central and southern Europe where they are considered a serious forest pest.
The sand here is soft and dry and generally so littered with human and dog footprints that the presence of other animals is hard to discern. However, we do find one 'clean' bit of sand that is quite interesting. A weasel has gone through at some speed, a small dor beetle moved through leaving a set of parallel tracks ‑ another larger beetle had left a similar track nearby, at least three different birds had used the place ‑ one hopped and two ran, one of the latter being a pipit with the impression of its long back claw showing clearly.
As we return to the beach, a woodcock flies past, going north at a height of about a metre and a half. It isn't in a hurry ‑ unlike in most sightings when a bird has been disturbed and all you get is a back view of whirring wings.
Out at sea are plenty of scoter, a single guillemot, and two sandwich terns going south ‑ we are now just north of their wintering area.
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