Don't ask me how, but she's come off second best from a fight with the water tray. Her famous green feathers turning a sodden black. But plonked in front of the fire she soon perks up. Like the stalking stilts our eyes too search for something of interest. We are not disappointed.
Krill decorate the water's edge with flamingo-orange.
Tiny shrimps, en masse, spluttering among the rocks. From there to the playground we pass by sated seagulls. You call them'ladybirds'. I haven't the heart to correct you. The ladybirds are laughing.