September 10th was a special day. After what seemed an age (but was probably only a few months) the skulking cetti’s warbler found his voice again. I missed him and his monotonous song.
The tide is on the turn and already the keenest of the fishing fraternity is poised. They wait patiently, the weathered man with his green waders and rod; the elegant little egret and the stealthy heron with their crest feathers and assassin beaks.
A misty but hot September day; the beaches and parks have emptied out their children and holiday makers. And behind me somewhere in the hedge I hear the robin’s tinkling little song.
Birds do it; bees do it, as do cows, foxes, and dogs. Families laden with bags ready to be filled have an unfair advantage in the competitive sport of blackberry picking.
The good news is that more birds (even the shy warblers) are visible again, and I even catch a precious fragment of the willow warbler’s song. The bad news is that they’ll be leaving soon.
8 cormorants on the sandbanks drying in the sun,7 mallards sifting through the mud,6 growing cygnets, 5 oystercatchers ,4 herring gulls, 3 honking geese and an egret fishing by the shore
I was admiring the 4 geese flying above the river as it squeezed itself through the sluice gates. Suddenly an iridescent flash of brilliant blue caught my eye and (with complete delight and incredulity) I saw it was a kingfisher.
It’s so incredibly hot, even (unusually) right through to the evening and night. The swallows, swifts and aquatic creatures of every type and species are happy, but the jackdaws sit on roof tops panting like little black dogs.
A dozen white egrets fly in their floaty delicate way over my head, heading for the sunset and the Duver. The tide turned an hour ago and they’ll be getting ready to wade their yellow feet through the rock pools that gradually reveal themselves.
Ice-white forks of lightening illuminated the half-stranded boats in the harbour and St Helens (on the opposite side) seemed to be enduring the Blitz. The soundtrack to all this drama was the loudest thunder I’ve ever heard.