On Dornoch beach yesterday afternoon I watched nine sanderlings practise their line dancing which was, of course, of no interest whatsoever to the local oystercatchers. As each wave came in, they scampered up the beach. As each wave slid back down the sand, they followed it.
We haven't seen any sanderling, the smallest of our local waders, for some weeks and, in this grim world of bird flu, were beginning to worry about them. They're my favourite wader, a joy watch, as full of energy as small children, never still for a moment, and the least shy, so one can often walk up to within a few metres of them without them worrying.
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