Wally the Walrus is visiting Old Grimsby Sound. He arrived silently, overnight.
Commandeering, and boarding, a seven metre power catamaran. . . .
. . . .on the mooring just inshore of Stargazer.
The young tourist, vacationing from the Arctic, takes a keen interest, in his new surroundings. Raising his, handsomely mustachioed, head, for a better view.
First he darts, a quick glance, over toward the beach, his back to us.
Then he turns, and spends the morning, staring over toward Stargazer. All the while, trailing a leathery flipper, languidly, in the lapping sea.
Wally seems unaware of the stir, which he is causing, ashore. Binocular toting walrus watchers, are out on the jetty. The Tresco Harbour Master maintains order, from his launch.
Knots of onlookers, muster on the beach. Some arrive by dinghy.
Others, on foot. One is 'unable to see, for looking.' Until his gaze is redirected, to the astounding sight, of a four year old walrus, sunbathing aboard a boat, whilst taking a holiday, in the Isles of Scilly.
I pull the Avon up, into Stargazer's cockpit, as a precaution. Wally has, inadvertently, punctured a number of rubber dinghies, with his tusks, whilst attempting to board. The tender also, I hope, fills Stargazer's transom cut-out and cockpit-well, sufficiently that they do not appeal, as a haul out spot, to a wandering one tonne walrus.
Wally adopts a nonchalant pose. The classic 'Yorkie Bar Man,' arm-out-of-cab-window stance. By lunch time, he has decided that, his current quarters, are somewhat cramped. Or, perhaps, that he is hungry. Or, in need of afternoon exercise.
Wally leaves, as he arrived: noiselessly and mysteriously. Slipping away, into the open expanse of the Sound.
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