Stonechat

It seems hard to believe that my first conscious sightings of a stonechat came only two years ago in Pembrokeshire when we were walking part of the coastal path and noticed these handsome birds singing brightly from the uppermost twigs of coastal bushes. 

Of course, they’re probably more known for their rasping call resembling stones being tapped together, and it’s that sound I usually hear when hunting them out on walks around Sychnant - always a frustrating experience as no sooner do I spot one, they spot me and flit off to another even less accessible  perching spot - always too far away even for my longest lens. 

Their song, however, is far more beautiful than their namesake call, and it’s this I hear today on our coastal walk. Somehow, on the coast they seem more brazen, standing their ground a little longer. Yet even here, this one does not stay still for long. He perches delicately on a blade of marram grass, or on the brittle skeleton of last year’s  wild parsnip, sings a few sweet notes, then springs up in the air before finding another  equally precarious perch a few metres along. 

At least this pattern gives me the opportunity for a variety of shots; my main, a less precarious perching on a fence post where he has something of the look of a disgruntled school master - arms behind his back,  foot tapping impatiently - and an extra collage.