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The Guardian - UK
The Guardian - UK
Environment
John Gilbey

Country diary: I look out over a sombre, restless sea

Sunlight illuminates waves breaking offshore.
‘I walk down to the shoreline and look out over a restless sea.’ Photograph: John Gilbey

On a grey, still winter day, the funeral of an old friend, a lady from the hills beyond Tregaron, brings a poignant end to the year. After the ceremony, over hearty sandwiches and cups of strong tea, we exchange anecdotes about the life of an extraordinary person. We seek in vain to distil all her artistry, wit and wildly capricious humour into a few brief snatches of conversation – but she will be long remembered.

Much later, needing air and space, I walk down to the shoreline and look out over a sombre, restless sea. Breaking waves clash around the offshore skerries as wind and tide start to build in different directions. Towards high water, with the offshore rocks now awash with a confusion of water and foam, a group of turnstones takes tenuous shelter on a rock nearer the beach. They are soon joined by another party from a small area of beach now becoming inundated by the lines of surf.

Turnstones on the offshore rocks
Turnstones wait on the offshore rocks for the tide to fall. Photograph: John Gilbey

From their sweep of motion, it seems that most of the snacks they are seeking are right at the waterline – a level that changes cyclically as the waves surge around the rocks. When the water drops, they scuttle down and pick at a few morsels, then retreat as the next crest rolls towards them. In the poor light, the movement of the small flock is oddly hypnotic, looking almost like a slow, regular form of breathing, but it is difficult to tell if they are actually catching enough food to make it worthwhile.

A sudden flash of colour at the edge of vision makes me look up. Across my field of view swoops a kingfisher, electric blue plumage seeming almost alight against the grey of sea and sky. While they are often present around the banks of the Afon Rheidol nearby, I have never before seen one actually on the sea coast in west Wales. With so much ice having formed inland recently, perhaps this individual is seeking refuge where a food supply is still accessible.

I wait a while, but it does not return – although its brief presence lingers as a bright, welcome memory to combine with the other events of the day.

• Country Diary is on Twitter at @gdncountrydiary

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