Down to Bedrock

Last night’s gale has cleaned out the sand and pebbles from the little beach at Lamb’s Well right down to the bedrock.  There are just a few pebbles and some kelp on the now flattened splash zone at the head of the little cove, but the smell of kelp and salt, and the sound of pounding surf remain.  The packed-down grass is alive with sand hoppers driven up from the beach by the gale, a bonanza for a rock pipit, gobbling them up with consummate ease.  Sea slaters too, looking like gigantic wood lice, race for cover as I lift the grass.

 

Years ago, when I studied rock pipits in this hidden cove, there was a footpath down from the top of the cliff, which, now covered in brambles, makes easy access to the tiny beach possible now only from Langland Bay at low water.  I sit at the eastern side of the cove, facing into the stiff wind and watch a rock pipit chase others away from the feast.   Grey clouds race across the horizon, and the lowering sun casts a silvery sheen across the sea, turning the western headland into a silhouette.  Only in summer do I meet people here, but in winter I can guarantee to have it all to myself. 

Lamb’s Well is a great place for sea crustaceans, especially at the headland, where vertical rock faces are covered with limpets, acorn barnacles, and different kinds of periwinkles, but it’s the small periwinkles, hidden amongst the barnacles, that have a special meaning for me, and are vital for the survival of rock pipits during late winter.  My studies years ago relieved that ‘my’ clever little bird defended not only the beach, but also the headland, turning to a diet of small periwinkles when food on the beach finally ran out - a great survival strategy.