Seals and Solstice

All along the coast at this time of year, grey seals come ashore to calve. They do it on rocky islets, and in cliff-bound coves mostly inaccessible to humans... but not everywhere. A mile north of St Abbs along a clifftop path, the gradient relents at Horsecastle Bay. 

I took the dog there for sunrise. For some reason I expected to watch the sun rise out at sea, but at this time of year - the morning after the winter solstice - it rises along the edge of the land.

St Abbs Head sunrise:

The seal cows come ashore and feed their pups some of the richest milk in the animal kingdom, containing 50% fat - ten times the amount of human or cow milk! The babies need it, as they must grow fast and get off the shore where they are extremely vulnerable. Within three weeks they get enough to more than double their weight, before their mothers leave them to figure out the rest of their lives for themselves.

Grey seal pup:

It was bitingly cold, but the pups looked pretty comfortable - no wonder with such a thick layer of blubber! If it wasn't for a retaining fence they would be right up over the path, and the dog was on her lead and best behaviour, kept at a distance from the fence. Can we stroke them? asked a companion. I wouldn't, I said. They're wild animals, give them space.

St Abbs, later:

The weather either side of this day has been flat and grey, unrelentingly wet on the west coast visiting family, the sharp frosts of early winter replaced by cloud and darkness, mud underfoot. Nothing much stirs and these are the death days of calendar, as evocatively described by Monica Wilde. But for one morning, the wind moved mountains and the world was on fire.