As usual, we spent a week in early September in my beloved Anglesey visiting our favourite haunts. I also spent several hours each day sitting on what remains of my favourite rock, gazing out to sea—or sitting on another rocky outcrop a bit further along when the local anglers got a bit too close.
With the exception of my first ever Anglesey kingfisher, I didn’t see anything particularly unusual or spectacular ‘down on the rocks’ this visit, just the usual gulls, guillemots, razorbills, oystercatchers, curlews, gannets, rock pipits, stonechats, linnets, cormorants, shags, little egrets, grey herons, and late-season swallows and Sandwich terns. Perfect!
One afternoon, I watched and photographed a grey heron flying high above the sea, battling into a strong headwind. It made achingly slow progress; so slow that I became worried for it. I followed it through my binoculars until it landed exhausted but safe on the island about a mile out.
A couple of afternoons later, as I headed up the path after another delightful session at the same spot, a Scouse woman leapt out of her caravan in the adjacent field and called to me over the hedge:
“Excuse me… I was wondering whether you got any photos of the dolphins the other day,” she said.
No, I hadn’t. Had there been dolphins about? On previous visits, I’ve occasionally seen them off in the distance, coming out of the bay and heading out to sea, but I’d seen no sign of them this week.
“They were down there on Tuesday,” explained the woman. “I could see you out on that rock taking photos with your big lens. You were photographing something off to one side while a pair of dolphins were leaping out the water just behind you. I wondered whether you got any photos.”
No I didn’t get any photos of dolphins leaping out the water; I was too busy snapping away at a knackered heron flying out to sea. The Scouse woman and I had a good laugh about it
In years past, I would have been irritated to have missed photographing dolphins—or anything else, come to think of it. But ever since I got my ridiculously long kick-ass lens a year and a half ago, I find I’ve become far more stoical about missed photo opportunities. The lens is far too heavy to keep permanently in my hands, ready to shoot at a split-second’s notice. I’ve developed a way of cradling it in the crook of my left arm like a baby, but I can’t keep it there indefinitely, so I end up stowing the camera safely in my bag, hurriedly taking it out again whenever I suspect some interesting action might be afoot. What this means in practice is I quite often miss shots. Sandwich terns, in particular, seem to have an uncanny ability to do something spectacular right in front of me as soon as I put my camera away. A couple of years ago, I would have been irked in the extreme by such shenanigans; nowadays, I tend to laugh, then swear at the culprits under my breath in affectionate admiration.
Anyway, I did manage to take some nice bird photos during my stay:
(Note the absence of leaping dolphins. But there’s always next time.)
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