Drip-dry

Thick mist on the coast meant an overnight duet between the bell buoy and the fog horn,  six dongs to every moan. It was still foggy when I walked down to the cliffs in the early morning.  Gull chicks were piping and their parents calling, razorbills and guillemots were growling  and murmuring, jackdaws were chacking.  Amidst the cacophony the  cormorant stood on top of the sea stack, silent and motionless in its classic crucifixion pose.  The bronze iridescence of the  plumage made it look like an exalted  dignitary holding a formal posture for a ceremonial purpose although in reality it was simply drying its wings.

I've never managed to see the cormorants' nest site which I imagine must be out of sight and out of reach way down below but Talpa blipped one just the other day and it's well worth a look.