A few Snow Buntings have made the onerous journey from the Arctic to Crow Point, North Devon. Today there was a harsh frost, temperature minus four, so they may have wondered why bother? Nevertheless a brilliant clear, bright morning, with wraiths of mist gently rising off the River Taw and Torridge estuary and frost lying white, coating the dunes with tiny ice crystals. Then typical of this Biosphere in a few moments, a sharp, freezing wind kicked up and the landscape changed from blue to grey as a heavy mist rolled in from the sea. The surf, at low tide, some half a mile away.. invisible, yet still heard, loud, Atlantic waves, at least ten degrees warmer than the air, the cause of this pea souper. Out of the gloom, random and abstract, a runner, miles from any where..
Then we saw the Snow Buntings, squat, fat little creatures, hunched against the cold, feeding on frozen seed heads in the short Burrows grass. Flitting suddenly to another station, a flash of white and they are gone.