Down to the fish shop

I'm just back from a trip down to the fish shop on the Mean Machine, my electric scooter. It was quite a balmy trip there. The sun shone. The tide was on its way in. By the time I came back, the weather had changed. The sky had clouded over. The water was much further in. The wind was getting up, the sea roughening with white horses. I was glad I'd wrapped up well with boots & gloves.

On the journey I was struck by yet another sign of the coming spring. The black-headed gulls were whirling around. Most were in their summer plumage, a few still in transition.

I've never understood why they're called black-headed gulls when their summer heads are a dark chocolate brown, not black. I suppose from a distance it is may be easy to think of them as black-headed as then you are only aware of the heads as being very dark. Or maybe it relates more to their winter plumage when their head are white, with a dark mark behind their eyes, too small to distinguish the real colour. Whatever the reason that's their name.