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Last night a group of Far Ings Bird Group members loaded their shoulders with layers of winter clothes. I believe we actually looked like giants but the look in each persons eyes betrayed a desire to be at home watching pointless.
Snow flurries of polystyrene pieces pricked our common sense that carrying out a bittern watch was more torture than worthwhile. Probably true.
Without protestation we each wandered off to our posts to dutifully listen and look through cracks in our scarves and hats. Snow fell, light faded, shivers arrived, heads dropped.
A bittern was seen and not heard, two marsh harrier shared our interest in reedbeds, A cetti's warbler sang in 'cetti's alley', water rail squealed our silent complaints, which helped, and a barn owl haunted the low light as we gathered for debrief.
News of a singing chiffchaff drew a chortle from frigid faces, spring? no way.
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