Helen B and I braved the crazy grouse at Birk Bank (*) and found a cuckoo singing on the hillside last night.
Previously, caught up with Pete C’s whimbrel flock at Little Fell Lane, where there were still around 14 in the fields with smaller numbers of curlew.
(*) Translation: Helen walked calmly past the grouse and I followed nervously. When we came back he’d gone to bed.
