There’s a Twite on a wire. We’re down to our last 10,000 breeding pairs.
There’s always a small, hardy flock here, perched on barbed wire and fluttering in small groups along the cliff path. As I walk back I see a couple in the gloom and the rain:
As I move closer I can see this one’s a male with a beautiful pink spot on his rump. That counts as fine breeding plumage here on the exposed headland.
It’s a beautiful wet Twite.