Walking the Orkney shoreline, usually such a peaceful and calming activity, has been more disturbing of late. Along the strand, a succession of small bedraggled forms lie prone – victims of the avian flu ripping through the seabird populations of the Northern Isles and up the east coast of Britain.
Crossing over to the Brough of Birsay, the tidal island, via a narrow causeway, I stumble across the first gannet. Its long, streamlined body is immediately recognisable: spectre white, misted with gold at its crown. Its eyes, staring blindly, have that piercing, icy quality of a husky’s, while its beak is the palest powder blue lined in black, as if designed with a felt-tip pen.
