From a mile away

I’m at least a mile away from the Arctic Tern colony here when one passes overhead. It’s clearly not found enough to be outraged about today, so it decides to give me a good shouting at.

They do it to anything which flies or walks on two legs or four.

Where I was young we had a ranting neighbour who used to shout angrily in the street. He would scream, “Harold Wilson! I bloody hate Harold Wilson”, at passersby. I feel that Arctic Terns are his soul brothers.