This morning the moor was alive with new arrivals from northern europe.
They were in their hundreds, sometimes on the ground or in trees, at other times battling the strong winds impeding their progress westward. In this they showed their lack of local knowledge. The Jackdaws were coping much better, having a superior strategy they've learned over many years. The daws fly high until they get close to the top of the slopes then swoop down skimming the ground as the wind hits them. The Fieldfares and Redwings make a valiant effort then turn back defeated to take a break, sometimes picking away at the remaining fruit on Rowan. Then they rise into the air and try again.
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