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Shags also gather in late evening before resting for the
night on sheltered low ledges next to Bacon Hole to the east. I watch the
nightly ritual as they first circle over the sea, before gliding gracefully
towards the cliff-face. Most are juveniles, but as the light fades, all become
silhouettes against the grey rocks.
To count the cormorant roost before the light fades
completely requires a quick sprint westwards; there are lots here tonight, and
maybe some shags amongst them too. History demands there’s a name for this
ledge, but perhaps this is a secret known only to those lucky individuals
living in the few houses on top of the cliffs.
Back at Crow Hole, as the roosting alarm calls of blackbirds
breaks the evening silence, the choughs are quiet, and I know they’re ready to
disappear for the night. One by one, they drop silently out of sight into the
small hole in the roof of the cave; I wonder if they roost together as man and
wife.
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