Down here in west Cornwall, the days are long and summer is on the wing. Like the Tories in Scotland, the tiny population of Cornish choughs continue to defy extinction, clinging on like crazy with their little red feet, simply refusing to die out. Six nests with chicks have been monitored this year, while the birds themselves enjoy a higher level of security and protection than a Russian mafioso. I am dying to see one, forever scanning the cliffs with my binoculars, trying and failing not to be a holiday cliché. Middle-aged woman in Breton top, bakes her own bread and stares at the sea for hours on end. Chough spotting! Wildflower pressing! What is happening to me? I have become the person I used to hate; someone who takes photograph of sunsets and obsesses about birds.
The EU Red List of Birds, published last week, detailed its concerns about several species in the south-west of England.
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