Mr H's Sporting Tour of the British Isles

Following the Oystercatcher from the northeast to the southwest takes stamina and tact.  In fact, in places I have been taken for a mysterious puma, sic:

My gratitude to http://www.bigcatmonitors.co.uk/, but I do think they've photoshopped the teeth to look rather too 'American'.

The Oystercatchers have their headquarters down here, along with delicate egrets, delightfully rancid cormorants, and gamey gulls -- all the makings of a Halibut 'Celebration' Pie.  Must get shopping.

Oystercatchers

I have always wanted to listen to the Oystercatchers.  Do they catch oysters?  Does it matter?  They are the banshees of the bird world.  Their windscreen-shattering skreeks will drill a hole through any amount of earwax.  Not only that, but they are a delicious white-and-black.  If I sink my teeth into them, the colour scheme will be perfect.

Though I have been stalking up and down, seeking whom I may devour on the verdant banks of a northern river, the score remains Halibut - NIL.  Tomorrow I disguise myself as a mollusc.