The Magic of Islands

I think I am becoming addicted to islands - although 'becoming' is probably not the right word.

This time it was to Bardsey Island...

Bardsey has a long history of human habitation, had an early monastery and is reputed to have once had a king.  This is him -

Getting there was a bit of a novel experience as we climbed aboard the catamaran as it rested in a cradle at the top of the slipway.  A tractor then shunted the whole thing down into the water and away we went.

Choughs were a real treat both on the island and on the Lleyn Peninsula.

Ravens patrolled overhead.

White Wagtails were passing through both on the island and the mainland and far outnumbered Pied Wagtails.

First-winter White Wagtail.

Of the waders present in the area Knot were in small numbers only.  This juvenile bird was a particularly confiding individual - the colour tones changing as the sun came and went.

A single Greenland Wheatear put in an all too brief appearance on a rain-swept headland but some pristine first-winter birds lingered in the afternoon sunshine.

The island has no ground predators and a breeding population of around 20,000 Manx Shearwaters.  The adults had already departed and the first of the young  were apparently just beginning to emerge from their burrows in the evenings.  How strange to think of these birds just beneath our feet as we walked over the turf of the island.