They see me long before I see them so they're already moving away, though their retreat is punctuated by quick dashes for a too-tempting morsel washed in by the rising tide. They'll fly any moment but....
....not if I stand absolutely still, because they obviously like this little section of weed-covered beach and, although they'll watch me, it will draw then back, closer....
....and closer - though there comes a point, when they're less than ten metres from me, when they....
....begin to wonder whether they're being a bit too trusting.
I love these busy little flocks of sanderling. We see them as winter approaches, moving down from their summer breeding areas in Siberia and Greenland, and then they'll pass through again in the spring, feeding along our beaches as they travel north.
They see me long before I see them so they're already moving away, though their retreat is punctuated by quick dashes for a too-tempting morsel washed in by the rising tide. They'll fly any moment but....
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