It’s a warm evening, bathed in orange light. I hear the call first. Then it’s the flypast. It’s a Curlew.
There’s been just the one Curlew here, in the final field before the cliffs for the past week It’s been showing protective behaviours, as if it’s been breeding there.
Then I see another bird fly past. I think it’s another Curlew, maybe a juvenile, as it passes me. I look at the back of my camera. Just look how short that beak is: