A Big-Dolphin Of A Time!

I've seen more than a few cetaceans, but not for a good few years now. Most of 'mine' were seen in Scottish waters- magnificent country- or Cornwall, either spied from a prominent headland or the deck of a chugging ferry to or from one of the various islands off the west coast. Many of my sightings involved ponderous distant fins and sleek dark backs sliding along a distant sea-line, thus were of uncertain species.

I still recall, with much affection, sailing alongside a pod of half-a-dozen Orcas, when I was travelling out to The Uists some time in the late 1980s. In my excitement, I was eager to share the experience with some of my fellow passengers. "Look, !" I seem to remember shrieking to a party of five or so, "A pod of Killer Whales!" They barely broke stride as they hastened to the bar.

At the time this dismissal seemed unfathomable, but I suppose that's one of the many things that makes wildlife watching so special, that imbued niche intimacy that positively radiates from some, yet it remains curiously alien to most.

Special thanks to Javier Delgado Esteban

On Monday, 10th November, I was finally- eventually- able to reacquaint myself with that indescribable sense of awe that seems sometimes to almost overwhelm the captive observer upon the event of these wonderful chance encounters. The day hadn't started well; I'd contrived to spread my characteristic given-inability to organise, by filling 'young' David's van with a surfeit of furniture whilst at the same time failing to confirm drop-off times with the proposed recipients, thus dragging out a two-hour job into a full day's heel-kicking wait! As David said, "There's never a day that's so bad that it can't get worse!"

Extra special thanks to me ol' mate David Bryant

What else for a couple of tired old bird-watchers to do, other than to trundle coastwards in search of wildlife? A far-away Rough-legged Buzzard, a few now-you-see-me-now-you-don't Red-throated Divers, a shimmering island of Golden Plovers. The Visitors' Centre at Cley, with its seductive whisperings of coffee and cheese scones, upped its appeal and duly sucked us in...

Thirty minutes later, as we gazed meditatively towards a distant horizon, the idea of anyone 'picking out' genuine activity upon the pencil-thin line of ocean had seemed highly improbable. Yet, as whisperings became more animated, we couldn't help but be drawn in. "Pilot Whales... " a chap over at the far end of the centre seemed to be explaining. How can it be possible to know or to see, I'd thought. 'Twas the marvel of science, I was informed, someone on the beach had simply phoned the news to the Visitors' Centre.

And again, to Javier Delgado Esteban

The forgotten furniture was duly subjected to moments of simulated weightlessness, as the vehicle chose to disregard the minor undulations of the coast road. We arrived at Salthouse early and set about waiting. After much searching the sea still remained steadfastly devoid of cetaceans. A boot-sliding march revealing little, bar a cloud of sixty-plus Snow Buntings that tumbled along the shingle bank ne'er to be relocated upon the deck. At this point it had seemed that the chances of a more intimate study of the passing Pilots had perhaps expired. We thought maybe they'd drifted slowly back out into the deeps.

So, to return to Salthouse to discover a single tier of half-a-dozen telescopes trained upon an indeterminate distant line upon the sea was a truly wonderful moment. David and I stood and observed the cork-bobbing party, for perhaps an hour. Estimates gradually climbed from an initial dozen or so, culminating with a total of almost thirty Long-finned Pilot Whales.

Loyal friend and top blogger David Bryant

The creatures appeared not so much concerned with actually feeding, more with simply bouncing upon the swell of the ocean, surveying the world above- spy hopping- much as the local seals might do. Gleaning further information retrospectively, it would appear that there was much concern regarding a potential beaching- the down side to the occasional pleasures we wildlife-chasers prefer not to dwell upon- British Divers Marine Life Rescue were on standby throughout the pod's brief flirtation with the Norfolk coastline. Ultimately, all was well and the gathering crowds were fortunate indeed to have shared such a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Special thanks must go to driver David, also for his lifelong tolerance of his passenger's vagaries. There isn't a day that's so good that it can't get better!