Because it’s the school summer holidays, it’s been raining in the mountains for weeks now. The air is humid, full of moisture; moisture that when it’s not actually falling from the sky, is seemingly happy to exist in vast, mountainsmothering clouds of fog. Luckily, grey and green go together, so the verdant bracken and rushes of the mountainsides wear the cloak well. Looks are always important.
On a rock that protrudes just above the surrounding vegetation, one of this year’s fledgling wheatears sits. Bedraggled, with rain droplets clinging to even the finest of its feathers, it’s not looking its best. A near-constant ruffling of those feathers goes some way to keep the bird dry, but just like with even the most expensive waterproof jackets, a soaking is inevitable. Its parents…
