Light was late coming this morning at Our Cove, as the rain beat in from the sea, blown by a strong easterly wind. The more adventurous of crows ventured out, but were quickly blown back to the shelter of the trees. The gulls, on the other hand, relish a stiff breeze, swooping and soaring, exhilerated by the wind and showing off their prowess as masters of flight. A black duck just flew in and looked for a moment as if he would blow into the rocky point at the edge of the cove, but at last moment he veered off and splashed down by the shelter of a half-tide ledge. And the gulls still soar effortlessly, as if to taunt less agile birds.
Time to get back to the easel. I am working this morning on a painting of a "Yellow Legs", on an early morning rock by the sea. It will be the first of a series I plan to do on birds of the seashore.