On Passage

Lynne Gladstone-Millar

ON PASSAGE

Our Autumn migration stint of bird-ringing on the Isle of May had been good. A fog and an east wind had brought rushes of Bramblings, Redwings and Song Thrushes on passage and we even had a Bluethroat in the Bain trap. As usual we had been bunking down comfortably in the Low Light, the island's dis-used lighthouse, but by Monday Fred and Fritz, the resident mice, were eyeing our diminishing stores rather too keenly, and a warm bath at home beckoned. Thus - but always with mixed feelings - we closed up the Observatory and clambered down to the Altarstanes where Davie would pick us up in his boat on his way home from his lobster pots. It was late afternoon. ... (continues)