Having braved the wind on Monday and been confined to barracks on Tuesday, Wednesday evening with its lessening winds and warming sum merited a trip up to Cresswell to see the Little Stint. Like other bloggers, I have been increasingly wishing that someone would turn the country 180 degrees and we would benefit from the Sab/Grey Phal/Leach's/Baird's/Buff-breasted fest that the west coast has had for the last three days.
I believe we get some very modest easterlies on Sunday, so who knows.
In fading light, the Little Stint was located on the ever-increasing sand-bar/mud flat outside the hide at the pond, along with 11 Dunlin.
Plenty of other activity but nothing of note, it was quite relaxing to see the wee fella and his minders feeding like mad and illuminated by the diminishing sun................