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As we walked down the footpath to the cliffs from the smart new visitor centre our senses were assailed by the sound and smell of seabirds. The air resounded with the strident onomatopoeic sound of kittiwakes and the more guttural calls of the thousands of gannets. There was also a strong farmyard smell, reminiscent of chicken sheds, pervading the air. One's nostrils soon become accustomed to this. It is a spectacular sight to stand at the various viewing points along the three miles of cliffs and marvel at the beetling cliffs and the thousands of sea birds crowding the sheer rock walls and wheeling in the air. Looking at the birds perched on the tiniest of ledges, it might be though that they are glued there, but, although they are not, they are still completely at home. That their eggs do not plummet to the sea below is a testament to an evolutionary process which has given them a pointed oval shape, so that when knocked instead of rolling off the edge they simply roll in a tight circle. Roger and I spent a very happy eight hours here and filled our memory cards before we managed to drag ourselves away for fish and chips.
Fulmar |
Fulmar |
Gannet collecting nest material |
Gannet |
Gannet |
Gannet |
Gannet Courtship |
Gannet Courtship |
Gannet |
Gannet collecting nest material |
Gannet |
Guillemots |
Guillemot |
Herring Gull |
Jackdaw |
Kittiwakes |
Kittiwakes squabbling |
Kittiwake |
Kittiwake |
Kittiwake |
Puffin |
Puffins |
Puffins |
Puffin |
Puffin |
Razorbill |
Razorbill |
Razorbill |
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