Birdsplaining: A Natural History by Jasmine Donahaye

Author:Jasmine Donahaye [Donahaye, Jasmine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: New Welsh Rarebyte
Published: 2022-10-03T15:18:29+00:00

9. The Promise of Puffins

I miscalculated how long it would take to drive to Marloes Head. We were already late, when round the bend of the narrow high-hedged road towards the headland, we fetched up behind a flock of sheep. My tension squeezed tighter. The later we were, the longer we’d have to queue for the Skomer Island ferry; if there were a lot of people, we might not make it onto a ferry at all. I knew the sheep would add at most ten minutes to the journey, but everything had been a rush that morning: we’d set off without breakfast and we were still going to have to stop for coffee and something to eat, which would make us later yet. Now the world had slowed to the pace of recalcitrant ewes, while my mind raced round and round a closed circuit of stress.

My mother had travelled all the way from Australia to see me and we had done almost nothing I’d promised her we could do. I was working three part-time jobs that spilled over into her visit; I was broke, and hadn’t been able to refuse a freelance project that came my way. The plan for a few days in the Lake District, where she’d never been, dissipated before my new deadline and growing overdraft. Walks up Cadair Idris or Snowdon had shrunk to walks at Cors Caron or up on the common. But the experience of puffins on Skomer was non-negotiable. She might go back to Queensland without ever seeing Snowdon or Skiddaw or Scafell Pike, but she wasn’t going home without seeing puffins.

At last the sheep peeled off into their new field, and I charged on, stopping briefly at a café in Marloes itself for coffee, a sticky brownie, and the loo, swearing at slow tourists (because everyone visiting a tourist site is a tourist except for me), and trying to ignore the dashboard clock. At last we turned into the car park near the ferry terminal. To my surprise and relief, it was nearly empty. It looked as if there might not be a queue for the ferry after all. But I was wrong. There was a sign near the kiosk: all the boat crossings had been cancelled because of the high wind.

The relief of tension was so sudden that I felt for a moment blank and confused. This failure, at least, was not of my doing: it was out of my hands.

My mother manages disappointment well – or she hides it well. She shrugged, pragmatic and amused. It was still a beautiful place to walk, that rocky Pembrokeshire headland; we could still see Skomer, and maybe we’d see puffins from the mainland, and other seabirds. It was spring; the wildflowers were bright and varied and as interesting to her as birds.

We parked, and got out, and walked over to take a look at the sandwich board that listed recent ornithological sightings. It’s a prime migration spot, and it was May, a good time to see scarcer visitors.

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