The waves just keep rolling under the lead-grey November clouds. Bouts of slight drizzle make
everything damp and pretty soon the wind gets at you. When the evening comes (in the afternoon)
darkness falls and I find it difficult even to pack my bags. The bike-ride back to base-camp in the
windy and misty weather is an uphill battle, but finally I reach home. I change my clothes, light the
fire and put the kettle on. Slowly but surely I feel warm, happy and healthy again.
I wake up in the middle of night. I check outside – a full moon lights the landscape in its bleak light.
A Pygmy Owl is calling.
The days roll by and we see glimpses of sunlight – even a whole sunny day. Daylight only lasts nine
hours and the migration is getting quite thin. Geese, ducks and divers are all on their last legs. The
unusual Kittiwake movement is still going on and other gulls just keep coming as well. Hundreds of Little
Gulls fluttering at the sea are a joy for my weary eyes and the occasional buzzing flocks of
Waxwings bring Christmas tidings to our ears.
We keep a close watch on Aythya ducks as the one-hundred-thousand mark of Scaup gets closer
and closer, but the looming goal of three million migrants this season seems unattainable. Two weeks to go and
then this season will be over.

TiP

(c) Timo Pettay Scaup (c) Christopher Stamp Kittiwake (c) Christopher Stamp (c) Christopher Stamp