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my rambling scribbles from that walk
A wander around the New Pits and Chowder this morning. A very estuarine experience. Still, misty air with the piping and whistling of the River system's birds c drifting into my ears.
A distant hoard alarmed and excited. Drama, action, beyond that leggy hawthorn hedge, beyond that redwing pulling red berries.
My haste to see is restrained by tiny goldcrests squeezing out there 'I'm in here’ call, yes my wait is not long, look, there it is, inside the hawthorn amongst the black branches. My mind strips the scrub away and has this tiny bird passing heaving trawlers in the North Sea. My Mind.... The piping, I walk on.
Sheets of wigeon are strewn around the River edge, curlew telling all it is Halloween, beware of the Boogie Man. They are up, cur-lew, cur-lew.
Chat chat chat up high, fieldfare heading inland at witches height, racing from tossing seas.
Water, Sky, Birds.
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