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Snow Hunting...

  • Sun 20th Jan, 2019

The wild wind swept all around us, its gently rough fingers combing through our hair. Heavens and earth were bathed in an eternal cold blue steal, where by the skyline blurred edges with the sea.

Rolls of navy-grey padded the sky, being reflected back by the mirror of the ocean, while all around the spread of grasses and flowers danced a frenzied dance, the wind their muse.

Filey Brigg on the day of Snow Hunting © Tim Cameron Filey Brigg on the day of Snow Hunting © Tim Cameron

Noses cold and scarves wrapped tight, we fought against the shoves and pulls and walked out on the peninsular above Filey Brigg.

Snow Bunting on Filey Brigg © Dan LombardSnow Bunting on Filey Brigg © Dan Lombard

The flurry of white along the path first caught my attention, as five or six dainty birds were seemingly picked up and tossed aside by the gust, their brilliant white dazzling in the grey. Then their forms appeared, flickering between the worlds of day and night. Snow buntings; the perfect camouflage. Their very sight transported the mind to the snowy arctic wastes where only the streaks of brown and black would be seen as the bright white merged with the terrain.

Snow Bunting on Filey Brigg © Jamie JohnsonSnow Bunting on Filey Brigg © Jamie Johnson

Delicate and ethereal, flitting amongst the buffered plants, they were a jewel on the cliffs. Oblivious of or despite our presence, they fluttered and fed as if in dimension of their own. The stubby mustard beak and frost bitten cheeks, that complexly simple blend of shades through-out the feathers; whether by the wind or by the stirrings in my chest, I had a tear in my eye.

Filey Brigg at Sunrise © George StoyleFiley Brigg at Sunrise © George Stoyle

Susie O'Neill

Susie works for the RSPB based at the Bempton Cliffs Reserve. She is also a local author. We are very pleased at YCN to welcome her on to our writing team, look out for more encounters on our news section soon! You can read her YCN profile Click Here.