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A special evening tonight. I super slow wander along the Hotel Hide track to listen for a bittern (no luck) gave up it's swamp jewels. I stood and perused the murky Reserve, mist rising in layers, dampness recognised within my nostrils.
Water rail creaked and creaked elsewhere, my head turning at each one. There's one, that's another...one behind.
Blackbird added suburban melody and a song thrush gave out opera, way off beyond that rail. A cetti's warbler made me jump, CHUKKA CHUKKA at my feet, I look with out any hope of seeing but yes, jumping across branches near the floor. It pauses and I manage to focus my binoculars, I see it.
Not a rustle from my coat as I stand and listen, my mind putting names to sounds then a kingfisher, peep peep and there it was, so close. I hold my breath for fear of disturbing it. Do not blink, feast and I did.
Further on I see a wake without a host on Hotel Pit. My mind inquires...no solution. Big circle? No diving cormorant in the imaginary centre, no solution. An otter breaks the water surface, just it's head, pale cheeks. Solution.
It swims to the bank within metres from me, climbs from the Pit and crosses the path in front of me. I stand without breathing once again. Otter climbs down the opposite bank and as I crane and fidget to keep it in view it has gone. the reed stems that stand guard hide otter. Otter, yes otter.
The near one hundred starling swirled and raced and swooshed into the swamp long ago, will otter be dropping by for tea. The moon sank in the western sky with a finger nail hint of itself. I can see my breath
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