There’s a Northern Gannet colony at Noup Head on Westray. Whenever there’s a breeze in the right direction the Gannets appear at eye-level at the top of the cliffs; so does their pungent smell.
Some of their poses are pure comedy as they realise I’m there:
There are adults and juveniles whirling about the cliffs. Here’s one in glorious juvenile plumage:
A blustery wind makes them twist and turn in the air as they paddle with their feet, adjust their wings and finally whirl off across the sea:
One is carrying what counts as nesting material, a long trail of seaweed. As it parades up and down the cliffs it has a near miss and banks fiercely to avoid a mid-air collision:
It’s hours of endless fun, whatever the weather.
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