Tree-flowers often blossom before the tree comes into leaf and on a bright April day they look lovely against a blue sky.  As I walked over Scout Scar to Sizergh Castle I sought out particular trees to admire their blossom.
First, a cherry in a fringe of woodland below Helsington Church.  Then to Holeslack with brimstone butterflies in flight and orchard trees coming into bloom. Blackthorn blossoms in the new-laid hedge. Damsons blossom about the orchard and varieties of apples and pears are budding and coming into bloom.

In SIzergh Castle formal gardens there are blossoming shrubs of exquisite fragrance.  And drifts of unfamiliar narcissi.  Few butterflies are abroad but bees are lively about their orchard hives and there's abundant pollen and nectar in tree-flowers. Fruit trees  are budding, coming into bloom but not yet leafing so lichens and epiphytes are visible and hint at the history of the orchard.  I wonder when the orchard walls were built, when fruit trees were first planted to whose design. There are name tags on some trees-  there are heritage varieties of apples, crab apples and pears.   Codlins, some are named. Codlins and cream, a folk name for willowherb.  With Shakespearian resonance. 

Sir Thomas Strickland took twenty five long-bow men to Agincourt and brought them all home safely. So it is said.  Yew used for archery are all around us, ancient trees.   Was there an orchard here in 1415, I wonder.  Were the lakes then fish ponds to feed the castle? 
For locals, like me, there are personal histories too. In pastures surrounding the castle there was an ancient hawthorn gnarled, bossed and contorted, with tree-holes for invertebrates or small birds to nest in.   I have the images but the hawthorn is  gone now, blown down in a gale or rotted away.   Last summer was comparatively good for butterflies, set against 2024 perhaps the worst record ever.   Through August and September I studied butterflies in Sizergh kitchen garden and the herbaceous borders.  Nothing on the ivy in the orchard but an aura of Red admiral and Comma around a damson in rays of sunlight.   I've seen butterflies feeding on fermenting fruit, but someone this damson draws me back to chart it's progress through the seasons.  And to enjoy the serenity and interest within the orchard.  A sense of its history, and those who planted it and cherish it. 

At South Walney, the eye is drawn toward Piel Castle as we consider what we might discover today.  There’s lark song  on a calm, bright morning  A few turnstone forage on the shoreline of Walney Channel  and a seal swims close.  From a freshwater lagoon comes the courtship cooing of  eider duck with males sky-pointing, rising up in the water to impress females.  Always, the plaintive call of redshank. High tide is 12.30 pm and we arrive well before that.  Salt marsh and mudflats are lost to an incoming tide. Returning  that way, we stop at Bay hide  to look west over a fresh water lagoon where most birds congregate today.   To the east, the tide ebbs and sea- water drains away to leave salt marsh and mudflats exposed once more.

​In early April, I hope to see linnet on display perches atop bramble bushes.  As we head for Groyne Hide  we hear  them calling and they alight on thorny stems arcing against the sky.  It's enchanting to see these small twittering birds in flight above marram grass, against the backdrop of the Irish Sea.
I know the profile from years of studying linnet.  A tiny bill, a distinctive shape of the head and a forked tail.  In the breeding season the male has a greyish head and a crimson breast, not easy to see in today’s strong sunlight. Linnet used to breed in gorse on Scout Scar and I loved to see and hear them.   The UK population is estimated to have fallen by 57%  between 1970 and 2014 (RSPB data). Having found none on Scout Scar in the last year or two I wonder how much further numbers have declined since 2014. I became so familiar with linnet I  could tell them on their first note.  During winter, the song element of a small bird's brain shrinks away, to regrow at the start of the breeding season.  Linnet and skylark must relearn their song. And so must I.  Last year, I listened in vain for redstart which arrive at the end of April and sing from whitebeam rising above Scout Scar escarpment.  I searched and searched,  finding few.  Our relationship with wildlife inevitably changes as numbers decline. That sense of easy intimacy is lost.  
So as we look  out to sea from the Walney sand dunes an interlude with linnet is special.  
Latin names often suggest a particular aspect of bird or plant. Common linnet (Linaria cannabina)   feeds on seed,  preferably  hemp and flax. Scientific name, cannabina, from Latin for hemp (cannabis)  Linnet comes from flax, known as linseed.   I wonder what seeds are available for linnet here on the coast of South Walney.

From  Groyne hide, we look out across the bay to the spit where grey seal gather and slither into the sea.
Saturday 4th April and named storm Dave is waiting in the wings.  South Walney is exposed and known as windy Walney so let's hope birds are hunkered down and able to find some shelter.  It's a place I love and the day is the more special, being a fine day in what feels like a long spell of  unsettled weather.
Linnet are becoming harder to find in SW England too. Birder Jeff Holmes used to find flocks of over 500 in winter fields but farming practices have changed. More and more farm land has been given over to growing  hybrid grass and rye mix for 'green energy'  so fields are become uniform and sterile- not much habitat left for small finches.  Linnet are still found on hills and moorland, when breeding

Redshank are roosting, heads tucked in but with an eye alert to predators.  The flock gathers on a grassy shoal in a fresh-water lagoon, a few birds on the water’s edge- red legs visible.  A somnolent male eider presides, all day it would seem. He’s still there as we return and watch from Bay Hide- a good view of different species roosting on the shoal.  Redshank and turnstone take to the air for a moment, and quickly settle again.  All day, the greatest number of birds we see is here.
​Being on South Walney, looking out toward Piel Castle and watching the ebb and flow of the tide is mesmerising.  Simply to be here, to hear birdsong and to glimpse the life of the place is a treat but the picture is far from simple.  Home again,  I enjoy all that I discover from zooming-in on images- what the camera saw and I could not at the time.  South Walney is like an international airport hub with arrivals and departures so working out avian itineraries is a challenge.  It's a refuelling stop so what will different species feed on, hunting, fishing or foraging? 

​The grassy shoal is at a distance and the screen on my camera is a mirror in a blaze of sunlight.  Thank goodness for a portly male eider to focus on.  My friend is puzzled by birds  on the tip of the shoal but all I see is contorted shapes of birds preening. Five mystery birds, wish I'd taken more images because there was only a single bird when I identified it from Bay Hide on our return walk. There are geese swimming, beyond the grassy shoal.  I reckon some are barnacle geese but I doubt they occur on South Walney so I'm puzzled.  More anon.   

At Bay Hide there's  a fresh perspective on the mix of birds on the grassy shoal. 
'What's that, with the wind blowing its crest?' my friend asks. There's only a gentle breeze. All I can make out is dark head with a crest of dark feathers and a wind-swept look.  It's Red breasted merganser, a male. The head is dark green but I can't see that, nor can I make out detail through binoculars.  A computer zoom reveals more.  Red breasted merganser is a slim, handsome diving duck.  A sawbill with a long, thin serrated bill adapted to catching fish.   There were three males and two females- the latter with a shaggy crest of rust-colour.   The birds are either roosting, heads tucked into their plumage, or preening. But across the sequence different aspects are visible; reddish bill, red webbed feet and males have a rusty red on the breast. A distinctive black and white pattern confirms  ID.  
On 31st January Bird Observatory sightings at South Walney recorded
10 Red Breasted Merganser 
200 LIght bellied Brent geese
32 Canada geese
10 Barnacle geese 
I'd hesitated to call barnacle geese because they're migratory. I saw them breeding in Svalbard in July 2006, watched an Arctic fox grab a brood of  goslings, one by one, and cache them.  The Svalbard birds overwinter in Caerlaverock where I've seen them. They fly north to Svalbard in March. And I had not thought they're found further south. 
Jeff Holmes of Bristol Ornithological Club explains there are many feral flocks of barnacle geese which now breed in the UK.   Chew Valley has around 12 birds, many at Slimbridge, some in Somerset and hundreds in East Anglia and elsewhere. So these South Walney  barnacle geese are probably feral. 
I'd asked him about the singular-looking goose with the two barnacles.   ' Looks like a blue Snow Goose but these have a pink-red beak. This looks like a cross between a barnacle and a Canada.'
Distribution patterns change, of course.  It's very rare to see Red Breasted Merganser in Somerset nowadays. If they were present Jeff would have seen them.

28th March. At  Wells Garth water cascades from the rock face and, from a seat of outcropping limestone,  I look down toward Park End Moss.   If there are flocks on the water they're visible from here.
Solitude.  The bird-hide looks out onto a pool where the wind sets waves racing.  Wigeon, teal and gadwall hunker down and shelter.  Little grebe are calling and a pair swim out on the water.  It's rough out there so birds shelter from a blustery wind.  No sign of the marsh harrier this morning.  
On the fringe of Park End Wood blackthorn  is in flower. Light fades and a there's a sudden sharp shower of hail, quickly over.   
How different yesterday in Park End Wood with  scarlet elf cup, primroses, daffodils, wood anemones and the first bluebells.   The day grew warm and lambs and their mothers lay in the sun in a pasture approaching Sizergh Castle. 
At Park End Moss farm there are damson trees coming into flower. Damsons,  a speciality here.  Weather at their season of flowering will determine if the flowers are pollinated and what the damson crop might be. Last year's damsons were abundant. 

On Helsington Barrows there's a blackthorn which is always the first to flower.   Blackthorn spreads by suckering so it appears to go walking and it spreads  out around the taller, older shrub in full sun and sheltering by a stone wall.   The younger shrubs are in  buds of a deep cream.   Blackthorn, the name suggests something dark and stark.  But lichens adorn the twigs and the opening flowers are intricate in colour.

Weather to keep you guessing what might come next.   After a sudden drop in temperature came a shower of hail.  Up on Scout Scar escarpment the sun shone, for a while.  Then rain clouds gathered over the fells to the west and I watched them coming, to be engulfed in rain. 
Sharing unsettled weather sees a bonding of kindred spirits.  Next day, a Sunday,  brought blustery winds and rain for much of the day.  The few who do venture forth are loving it,  and telling you so. 
30th April comes with a cold and blustery wind.  Chiaroscuro down in the Lyth Valley as a farmstead gleams white in sunlight, then is lost to darkness.  In the new-laid hedge, bordering a Holeslack orchard, hawthorn comes into leaf and blackthorn flowers.  The first bluebells show beside flowers of dog's mercury.  Marsh marigolds give a splash of yellow in the lake fringe.  Chickens strut amongst daffodils in SIzergh orchard.   The damson whose ripe fruit attracted September red admirals and comma  has creamy buds and one or two flowers.   Up on Scout Scar blue moor grass flowers, as always at Easter tide. 

1st April
The damson with an aura of Red admiral last September is bursting into flower.  Two days and there are far more blossoms. Daffodils bloom in the grass.

What might be the highlight of a day in Kentmere?  I'd never have guessed.
With the vernal equinox comes a sense of renewal. In pastures below Goat House Scar there are ewes with new lambs.  A hedge has been laid in traditional style and  brashings lie on the grass. In the barn pregnant ewes are feeding.  Daffodils bloom in the churchyard and peacock butterflies seek nectar on this warm and bright morning.   I glimpse dragonflies in flight.  The yew before the door of St Cuthbert's Church is 1000 years old,  hinting of layers of history. A hazy sunlight illuminates the  14th century pele tower of Kentmere Hall.  
Some fifteen years ago I came to Kentmere early and often, walking north from the church toward Kentmere Reservoir and toward the source of the RIver Kent.  Spring comes late to the fells and I came early, for the solitude and hoping to witness the advent of spring.  I met farmers tending their flocks, watched them gathering off the high fell, learnt how the use of stone barns had changed over the centuries.   
On a field-trip focusing on the archaeology of the dale, and its history, I visited the site of a bronze age settlement at Millriggs.   And our guide told us how to date the stone walls so characteristic of the dale. 
Local slate has been used in buildings and in dry stone walls for centuries.  Slate quarrying on an industrial scale  dates back to the late 19th century, with Steel Rigg and Jumb being  important quarries.   Some quarrymen were local, others lived at the barracks at Steel Rigg.  At Low Bridge, not far from the church,  there was a house which served as a pub, a brothel and a temperance hotel.  By turns.  The harsh conditions for quarrymen contrast with the peace and serenity of Jumb quarry nowadays on a spring morning. 
 One day I surprised  a peregrine at Steel Rigg quarry, and the falcon flew with its shrieking prey in its talons.  So many lost histories,  those too intricate to fathom, those we choose not to tell.

Today,  we began our walk lower downstream.  We have personal history here,  traditions to observe.   The wood was once coppiced for hazel and there are long-fallen trees bright with mosses, mature trees adorned with epiphytes.  There's scarlet elf cup fungus,  sometimes deep in the moss.  Follow a glow of scarlet and you begin to see  more fruit bodies on dead wood lying on the woodland floor.  Dog lichen looks spectacular as sunlight pours down through the canopy.   Hazel catkins are spent but willow beside our track is in bud,  tiny points of light against a blue sky.

Upstream of  Kentmere Hall Plantation,  the bracken fell-side is bisected by a track above Kentmere Tarn, where the River Kent slows and spreads into pools half-hidden by a fringe of shrubs and trees.  On 1st March 2025 a hazel of  beautiful form was a shower of  catkins.  A year later, on 21st March, its catkins are faded and the shrub looks unremarkable.  Today,   the highlight is a willow of golden catkins.  If we might come closer we'd probably hear the hum of bees.  I love catkins and all tree flowers.  They herald the coming of spring well before the leafing of the canopy. 
Bright sunlight blazes the white plumage of birds on Kentmere Tarn. Through binoculars, I can just make out  two black and white birds through branches of trees, and distant.  My camera may catch what I cannot see so I take a sequence of shots.  They're probably goosander, often seen along the River Kent  and I've found them at Skeggleswater.  They're sawbills, with long, serrated bills.  These birds don't have the goosander profile and  I'm wondering If they're goldeneye.  The male's head is inclined  away but there is a white patch between the base of the bill and below the eye. His head is large.  His mate clinches it for me, she's goldeneye.  For definitive ID I send an image to a birder friend whose expertise I trust, even with a single indifferent image.

There's a beautiful blue sky and sunlight  illuminates reed-beds and discovers warm and muted colours in the woods beyond the  fresh-water pools.  All is peaceful and serene.  Signs of new life after a wet and rather dull winter. 
Water-levels are high and mosses are vibrant green where a a moorhen feeds  in the shallows of willow and alder carr.  Scarlet elf cup show on a mossy log.   Catkins show against the blue; hazel, willow,  alder and green birch catkins.  There's a flowering sequence but, like so much in nature,  there is variability, perhaps related to the position and age of a tree.  I look for catkins on the aspen, so glorious in autumn colour last year.   No sign so far. 

A sightings board gives the latest lists of species, There will be resident birds, new arrivals and imminent departures.  Birds are in breeding plumage and in courtship pairs so may be displaying. Some species will  overwinter here and will soon head for their breeding grounds.   These wetlands will be a stop-over for migrating birds where  they refuel and shelter, sometimes awaiting favourable weather. 
A bittern booms somewhere in the reed-beds.  Numbers breeding here have increased in recent years.  They're hard to see but it's evocative to hear their resonating call.
The causeway hide looks out to an islet where mute swan and shag are often seen. But today the light is strong and the shag's breeding crest and green eye show clearly.   A marsh harrier flies over the reed bed.  There's so much to see that visitors may well focus on different species, on different aspect of the scene. 

A lively flock of tufted duck swims to and fro, close to the hide, males showing distinctive breeding crests.  Pairs of gadwall are about and  pintail.  The moment someone calls goldeneye that's my focus, They overwinter here, sometimes in large numbers, and they're stunning ducks.  They're swimming on the furthest reaches of the pool, screened by reeds growing on slivers of marshy ground, with shelduck and coot amongst them.
The adult male goldeneye has a circular white spot below the eye. The large domed head is glossy dark green with a pattern of  black lines on the white flank. One male is sky-pointing in courtship display.  Adult females have a head of chocolate brown and a yellow eye.  Several images shows the orange-pink tip on the black bill which signals the bird is in peak breeding condition.  There's at least one immature goldeneye in the group, showing mottled plumage on the flank and brownish eyes.  
Overwintering goldeneye will include the Scandinavian breeding birds.   Some will breed in the north, in Scotland. They nest in cavities in tree-holes, and in nest boxes.   I reflect on birds whose young many of us never see, either because they migrate  to the fastnesses of remote breeding grounds,  or because they are secretive in protecting nest sites and young.   

Photography- the word means drawn by the light.  Those goldeneye  swam on the furthest reaches of the pool, far out, disappearing behind reeds and a clump of  trees,  following  channels through the reeds.   Strong light falling onto the birds shows them remarkably well, given the distance.   There will be immature birds, first winter birds, in this group.   The eye changes colour as the bird matures- but colour is a gift of the light, not an absolute.  The incidence of sunlight determines whether the glossy dark green is visible on the male's head.   So, back to forensics with photographs. 

The first snowdrops herald the coming of spring. Or perhaps  the first wild daffodils,  looking fresh and lovely in Brigsteer Wood on the last day of February. We're on the cusp of spring when each day brings something new.  
The path through the wood is muddy from rain and from  tree-felling that traditionally takes place in February, before birds begin to nest, before trees are leafing.  Coppicing opens up glades  to attract new flowers, butterflies and pollinators.  Sunlght pours down through the canopy onto the woodland floor.  Responding to light and the longer days, the herb-layer burgeons with  new life.  Mosses are bright green,  bluebell leaves appear with dog's mercury,  cuckoo pint and primroses.  Hazel catkins have flowered and fall onto mossy logs where scarlet elf cup fruit. 
​​​Today  is the first day of spring, according to meteorologists, Ist March.  Astronomical spring is 20th March, the Vernal equinox. But  there's no specific date when spring comes,  the transition is gradual.   Spring comes as it will, as the weather and climate change determine. 
The hazel catkins that flowered recently were fully formed late last summer and overwintered as tight catkins until warmth and the lengthening photoperiod triggered a flowering.  Seedlings appear in the leaf litter, amongst fresh mosses,  and the first wild daffodils their petals crinkly.  Most are still in bud, petals  protected with papery spathes.  This burgeoning of the herb-layer is so striking because trees and shrubs still have a wintry look about them.  From the songs of woodland birds to the reed-bed habitat and the open pools at Park End Moss.
I have noted the first snowdrops, daffodils and scarlet elf cups across the Sizergh estate this millennium, and changes to habitat creation and management.   
I love composer Max Richter's Reimagining of Vivaldi's Four Seasons and the inspiration of Nature.  But to put a date of the coming of spring is counter to the experience.   If you hope to find the specialities of a location you have to be dedicated to discovery, prepared to come and come again, prepared for surprises. 

February 28th is a still day, the surface of the wetland pool mirrors birds out on the islets.   Through the silence wigeon are whistling.   Two little grebe call to each other across the water in high-pitched trills.  Is this a male calling ' I'm here, where are you'.  Or is he telling another male 'I'm here, clear off.' Somewhere in the reed-beds there's the piglet squeal of a water rail.  Pink-footed geese arrive with clamour and  splash-down but it's calls from birds unseen in the reed-beds that are so evocative.  
Out on an islet there are several snipe, their long bills showing against the water.  They're tiny compared to teal, the smallest duck. And dwarfed by two egret and a cormorant. They seem unperturbed by the arrival of these larger birds, content to share a confined space.  It's common to find snipe almost hidden amongst flocks of duck, although this behaviour may change with the advance of the breeding season. Some of these birds will migrate to upland breeding grounds where birds that over-winter on the coast in flocks, like golden plover and dunlin, will become solitary. Once they have nest sites  and lay eggs there's a need for secrecy.  And  diet will change as insects  breed with the coming of spring and  birds  need to boost nutrients as they have young  to feed.

Little egret, egretta garzetta -  a small heron.   Adult little egret, early in the breeding season, show long delicate white feathers.  The long, pointed bill is black. Legs are black and feet are a striking yellow.   Their life-span is about five years.  The dagger-like bill is black on the upper mandible whilst the lower is grey.  In juveniles and non-breeding adult egrets  the bill is duller and yellow-green.
Maturity and by  season determine appearance.  White plumes are specific to the breeding season, showing only on mature birds.  Black bill and legs is a sign of maturity and one bird has signs of incipient plumes.   Neither egret seems fully mature.  I watch the bird hunting for fish and crustaceans, its feet stirring the mud, its bill poised to strike. 

Alone in the bird hide, we look out over the fresh-water pool, over the reed-beds and fringe of trees toward Whitbarrow.  The morning is calm and still and a hazy sky has sunlight enough to reflect the warm glow of the reeds, a wash of colour in the water.  A wigeon whistles in the silence and stillness.   Hunkered-down and hidden, water-birds roost on islets of reed-stubble out in the pool.   Interludes of tranquillity, and the beauty of this February day.  

It's the breeding season and ducks swim in courtship pairs,  a gloss of water trailing in their wake.  Fine feathers, intricate patterns that blend and flow over their bodies,  colours both bright and delicate.  Marvellous plumage that is at once display and camouflage.  This is the time to see birds in courtship display. The sun plays on the water, scattering light, dazzling. Today is impressionist mode, gift of the light.  Images are evocative,  imprecise, like water-colours. 
Being attentive, being present, is our gift to each other, and to Nature.  Let us be in deep,  free from the hurly burly of the day.  
Many of the birds out on the water are overwintering, not resident.  Wigeon from Iceland, Scandinavia and Russia will overwinter here, breeding in northern England and central and northern Scotland.  Winter numbers of gadwall swell with the arrival of birds from Continental Europe and Iceland.  Teal has a massive winter population with smaller  numbers breeding in the north of England and Scotland. Common snipe breed in northern and western upland areas,  and in wet lowland grassland. I long  to hear them drumming in courtship display as we  have often done.  Winter birds arrive from Europe.  Breeding patterns change over time, and Climate Change will influence  behaviour.  There will be immature and non-breeding birds amongst those we see today.
Some fifteen snipe feed on strips of vegetation out in the pool. Snipe always seem to attract birders, including me. Their patterning is subtle and beautiful and their colouring blends in perfectly on the fringe of the reed-bed. Sometimes the long bill is the clearest feature.  Even  greyish gadwall have delicate patterning on their plumage.   A teal shows with a beautiful blend of differing pattern.  Colours on wigeon are rich and warm. 
A redshank feeds beyond a group of snipe, showing  how tiny snipe are. I think that's why folk love to find them.  A small bird with perfect camouflage is always a challenge.

Snipe are wading birds that probe  their long straight bills into mud =and marshy ground for invertebrates.  Gadwall, wigeon and teal are dabbling ducks and surface feeders and the shallow waters of this fresh-water pool with winter remnants of aquatic vegetation give good grazing. In the breeding season they will also take invertebrates; worms, insects, molluscs and crustaceans. 

As we leave the hide we pass a hazel with a mass of yellow male catkins and a few dark red female flowers.  Within the wood we find scarlet elf cup fungus on mossy logs, a splash of bright colour in a winter woodland .

We have lunch at Sunnyside on the Levens Causeway and catch the 1.00pm news. Andrew Mountbatten Windsor is arrested on a charge of misconduct in public office and taken into custody. It is his 66th birthday.   It's shocking but  unsurprising.  Where were you when the former Prince Andrew was arrested? 
A day of stark contrasts. Next comes 'Wuthering Heights' the latest version of Emily Bronte's novel by director Emerald Fennell.  Film critic Mark Kermode is scathing but reckons it will be a big hit.  Fennell says she channelled her fourteen year old self and her feelings as she read the book for the first time.  I read Bronte's novel in my early teens but I didn't have  quite Fennell's vision.  Not a single character  is likeable.  Sally Wainwright's drama, To Walk Invisible, is a TV film showing how challenging it was for the Bronte sisters to write as their brother descended  into alcoholism, how hard it was for women to be published and recognised.  Wainwright's Yorkshire moors are infinitely more beautiful  with banks of autumnal bilberry, plumes of cotton grass,  and the call of the curlew. 

Arnside
The curlew's foot stirs the mud and its bill  probes for prey.  Sunlight catches brilliant white feathers on its belly and the top of its thigh, and intricate patterning on head and mantle.  Light shines directly onto the curlew whose reflection flickers  in the water.   
The coincidence of good light and fine feathers shows the bird resplendent in breeding plumage.  The odd image with unconventional perspective helps identification since birds don't always present the classic pose.  After a while the curlew has a meal and what looks like a lugworm dangles from its bill.

Jenny Brown's Point faces south so  we're looking into the sun and birds are in silhouette.  Heysham Power Station shows in the distance.  Leighton Moss RSPB Nature Reserve lies directly across the estuary where salt marsh seques to quick-sands and mudflats.  The OS map shows how water-channels of the River Kent hug the coast as far as Jenny Brown's Point where they merge with  waters from Quicksand Pool Channel and debouch into Morecambe Bay. Twice daily tides bring organic matter and nutrients to provide a banquet for flocks of waders and water-birds.  Fresh-water currents mingling with the ebb tide create mesmerising patterns.  Low-water exposes deep mud-channels across the treacherous estuary. 
The scene is dynamic as the ebb tide reveals fresh feeding-grounds and redshank scurry about  the water's edge.  A blustery wind  ruffles  feathers and wind-chill is significant.  Birding is about what you see , what you infer,  and what you detect later from  studying images.     

The wind is raw,  sunlight is at a premium.  We fortify ourselves with hot chocolate and head back out to sit on a bench overlooking the water. Hooded, I couldn't hear curlew or redshank at the time but a video caught their calls through the wind.  There's an element of retrospection about such a day.  We watch the redshank flock scurrying  close to the water's edge,  note their feeding behaviour, but only the photographs give a glimpse of what they caught.  
The RSPB digital magazine for February 2026 has an item: Mud Matters which gives insights into why coast and estuary is such a dynamic and important habitat. 
The Arnside Tidal Bore is dramatic when an incoming tide surges up the estuary of the River Kent. We  saw the speed and power of this once, down on the edge of the mudflats during a high spring tide.  Too close! 
'The Severn Estuary has a higher, more powerful tidal range than Morecambe Bay which has a large range but is smaller in amplitude than the Severn.' Both are spectacular. 

A flock of redshank, following the ebb-tide, came closest to the shore. There was a flock of oystercatcher, a flock of wigeon,  and a small group of shelduck with the occasional curlew.  There would have been other species too distant to make out.
In reading the RSPB Mud Matters it's striking how much is hidden from our eyes, below the surface of the water.  Luckily, we like delving deep. 

Quicksands-   living, liquid sands, saturated and quaking.  Lively sands.  Quick, or you'll sink and be sucked in.
Quicksands teem  with life.  A lugworm dangles from the bill of a curlew.  A redshank grips a cockleshell.   In the intertidal zones of coast and estuary- plaice and flatfish hunt the shallow waters,  bivalve molluscs burrow in the mud.   Lugworms, cockles and mussels.  So much hidden life. 
For people to care about the deep Oceans, or about mudflats we need to make the invisible visible.  A quote from BBC Radio 4 Rare Earth and the Ocean Science Conference currently at Glasgow.  I learn of EDNA: Environmental DNA.  Fill a bottle with water from an estuary or ocean and analysis can now tell what life has passed through it. 

At Holeslack, the barn doors are open to invite us in.  Today it's an exhibition space celebrating women farmers on National Trust farms in the Lake District. Daughters of the soil, it's called.  Visitors engage with this exhibition. older visitors.  It's an opportunity to discover the barn interior too.  I love Sizergh's natural beauty, not what a friend calls Disneyland when a sequence of inescapable display boards distracts from banks of snowdrops- the highlight of the season for many visitors.  Within the shelter of the barns at Holeslack and at Sizergh, exhibitions can share important messages about conservation.  Along the trail, display boards aimed at children are ignored today.
Down to earth does attract one young child, Nature  not stuff he can't read.   He's squealing with delight as his mother holds his hands and dips him into a muddy hole in the grass. His back is plastered, head to toe, and he's loving it.  His parents are all for it too. Mud, glorious mud.   Parents with small children are frequent at Sizergh.  And older folk.  Where are the in-betweens? 

Soil matters, that's an important message.  A single succinct notice in the kitchen garden is to the point.  Visitors explore the kitchen garden and the herbaceous borders to pick up tips, to emulate what the brilliant Head Gardener achieves in tending the soil,  in growing fruit and vegetable,  in her beautiful planting schemes with flowers to attract pollinators.  
The National Trust has ample sheltered space in which to advertise books for sale in the shop and food in the cafe. So please keep big bold advertising close to shop, cafe and car park - the busiest places.  There's a big double barn at SIzergh Castle and now the Holeslack barn works well as a discreet exhibition space.   I returned to Sizergh today specifically to consider how an important project can be promoted to engage visitors without impacting adversely on Nature, without losing the sense of being out in the countryside.
Today, from Scout Scar escarpment,  there's snow on the fell-tops.  The first lambs appear in a field close to Holeslack farmstead.  Aconites flower amongst the snowdrops.   
The picture I did not take, which will live in my mind's-eye, is that small child being dunked in sloppy mud and the thrill it gave to him and his parents.  The National Trust needs to capture that down-to-earth excitement and somehow  keep it alive as the child grows to maturity.  

A toddler kisses the moss on a  low wall at Sizergh gardens.  He purses his lips to show how it's done, up close and intimate, look, smell,  touch and taste moss saturated after overnight rain. It's heart-warming to see parents encouraging  small children  to  discover nature for themselves.   
The new-laid hedge bordering the orchard at Holeslack Farm has tightly packed branches that will leaf and create a dense hedge, inviting to wildlife.    I'd like to see the National Trust training young people in the traditional craft of hedge-laying.   There's a much longer stetch of slashed hedge along the track from the cafe to Brigsteer Wood and that would be an excellent project.
 As we walk toward Holeslack Farm the sun appears and in a moment we feel its warmth as it illuminates this rural landscape.  Raindrops linger on twigs.   Bluebell leaves appear amongst the snowdrops which are at their finest.
So what may be the highlights (and lowlights) of a morning exploring part of the Sizergh estate? 

In the kitchen garden Charlie the cat is a welcoming creature who delights small children.   For all who love quizzes I offer this challenge- name these plants from their seed-heads in the season of February fill-dike.   Frosted seed-heads can make beautiful patterns and the science of seed-dispersal is full of interest.  What were these flowers that attracted bees and butterflies and how do they ensure their seeds  will disperse safely and grow?  SIzergh kitchen garden and the herbaceous borders are wondrous.  There are discreet plaques to name flowers and fragrant shrubs like daphne.   We meet others leaning toward the earliest flowering shrubs to breathe their fragrance.  From horticulture to the flora of ancient woodland there's so much to discover across the Sizergh estate. 

 I'm all for curiosity, for discovery and for seeking to understand the science.  For encouraging others to look and learn.  The small children we see today are doing that,  in their own ways.  A  long trail  of bold and inescapable  information boards advertising books and the cafe,  telling of mysteries hidden underground isn't  attracting their attention.  There's a large image of a bright yellow car along the countryside track to Brigsteer Wood. Leave cars in the car park. There's a  big double barn next to the cafe,  an ideal place for an exhibition. The cafe itself is a good place to advertise books on sale. But please, don't spoil this historic track  with majestic ancient trees with a series of display boards  that kids aren't reading.   Let nature be, let it speak for itself and let kids discover through their senses,  through what is immediate.   
I reiterate the words of Octavia Hill co-founder of the National Trust
The right of access to beauty and nature is an essential element towards the wellbeing of every man, woman and child. 
Throughout the year there are wonderful seasonal highlights,  NATURALLY.   Frost patterns, frogs in a mating frenzy heading for the lakes,  house martins and swallows mustering, butterflies, and moths.   A toddler made our day, and his, when  who he found  'caterpillars' beneath a hornbeam.  

There are hornbeam in budding catkin close to the cafe, just out of shot of the long yellow ruler of the soil project that imposes itself before a bank of snowdrops. 
Catkins are beautiful and the child who thought they were caterpillars made a delightful mistake. If it were a mistake.  Caterpillars of the winter moth may coincide with hornbeam catkins.  The remarkable buff-tip moth caterpillars come later in the season.  And a shower of frass (caterpillar pooh) could fall onto the grass below the trees.   Arboreal butterflies and moths, caterpillars of the tree-tops,  there are always mysteries to unravel. 

Soil is indeed key to seeing Sizergh gardens thrive.  In itself, this is a valuable project.  The question is - how best to present it, and where.  Last year, there was a splendid exhibition on ancient trees in the great barn.  Then visitors could walk the estate and discover such trees for themselves.  There was choice- you could opt to visit the exhibition or be out there at Sizergh discovering Nature as she is, for yourself. 

Candlemas Day,  2nd February,  commemorating the Purification of the Virgin.  It's  the season of snowdrops.  'Not very appetising weather', says Thomas Shaffernaker on the week's forecast.  Not very appetising news either.  On short winter days I find a study of literature and history enriching.  Janina Ramirez' programme,  Julian of Norwich,  The Search For The Lost Manuscript, presents a quest unresolved.  That elusive manuscript in Julian's own hand may yet be discovered. Melvyn Bragg's In Our Time discussion on Julian gives further insights.
Julian of Norwich  (1343 - 1416)  Revelations of Divine Love.  Julian made clear she adhered to all tenets of Holy Church. ' I'm only a woman, feeble and frail but yet I must tell you about the goodness of God.'  A message of hope in 14th century England that saw recurrent and virulent outbreaks of plague,  famine and religious heresy.  Survive all that and paintings adorning Church walls warn of the torments of Hell awaiting sinners in the afterlife.  As an anchoress with only a servant as intermediary how might she ensure that her manuscript reached Christians with whom she wanted to share Revelations she had received in a vision direct from God.  She was valued in her community as a spiritual adviser and shortly before Julian died Margery Kempe visited her.  Was it through her that Julian's manuscript reached the safe keeping of Benedictine nuns who fled to Cambrai, Northern France, at the suppression of the monasteries. And who fled the French Revolution and brought copies of Julian's manuscript back to England where one now resides at Stanbrook Abbey, North Yorkshire.  What a story!  
How many lost manuscripts from that time give an insight into the beliefs of people living in 14th century England.  We have Julian's Revelations of Divine Love. And The Book of Margery Kempe who, being illiterate, dictated her story.  
Geoffrey Chaucer (1340-1400) was Julian's contemporary. HIs poetic masterpiece, The Canterbury Tales,  gives vivid portraits of all classes of society who would have gone on religious pilgrimages, like Margery Kempe, Chaucer was a court poet, attached to the household of John of Gaunt. He was a diplomat, civil servant who travelled widely.  His canvas is broad, his stories wide-ranging in style and in tone. He's humane and humorous. 
The anonymous poet of  Sir Gawain and the Green Knight was also writing during the reign of Richard II.  A story set at the legendary court of King Arthur- it explores the values we hold dear and aspire to. Truth to our word, for instance. RIchard II broke his word and broke the bonds of trust  between a king and his nobles, most notably his uncle and England's greatest magnate John of Gaunt.   Chaucer would have witnessed the tyranny that led to Richard's downfall.   
What might these writers have to say to Our TImes? Well, today we have the latest revelations from the Jeffrey Epstein files, those that have not been redacted, suppressed, deliberately lost, their truth contested.  Lord Peter Mandleson is dismissed from the Labour Party and Prime Minister Sir Keir Starmer declares he should no longer be in the House of Lords.  Betrayal is the word used of Mandleson's leaking of sensitive Government information whilst in high office and at a time of financial crisis.   
Back to Macbeth and his reflection that our actions in this life are determined by a consideration of what awaits us in the afterlife. What keeps us moral beings, what keeps us true in 21st century, in our times.   What values underpin our society, what structures hold it together, for our well-being? 
3rd February.  Shocking revelations from the Epstein saga continue to emerge. Bill and Hilary Clinton will testify and hope this sets a precedent for others to do so. Let's hope President Trump hears this loud and clear, at last. 
Sir Ed Davey speaks well of the need to restore the public's trust in democracy, in the UK and globally.
So,  the pure white of Candlemass Bells, an emblem of light  out of darkness. 

Behind the mossy stone wall bordering a Holeslack orchard the  once flailed and  outgrown hedge is being laid, Westmorland  and Lancashire style.  Mostly hawthorn,  it will be stock-proof  and, as it regenerates,  something of a wildlife corridor.  The perfect habitat for birds and small mammals,  providing food and shelter.   Tall ivy clad trees bordering the orchard have berries and roosts for birds, and shelter for over-wintering butterflies.   Volunteers at Sizergh are working hard and glad to be out on such a lovely day.   The gate into the orchard is open and I am invited in, a rare opportunity.   Brashings lie strewn  on the grass and I spy snowdrops  beneath the trees in the woodland fringe.  Apple trees have labels, Keswick codlin one reads.  The orchards at Holeslack are famous for traditional varieties of pears and apples.   It would be good if some windfalls were left to feed the fieldfare and redwing that are often hereabouts in winter.
Hedge-laying is a traditional craft  done in February but with climate change birds will begin nesting earlier, so hedge-laying and coppicing now need to be done earlier.   I was surprised to find snowdrops so advanced.  One of their folk names is Candlemass bells.  Candlemass, 2nd February. 
​  I meet a young farmer gathering his flock overwintering in these pastures. Lambing begins on 1st February, down in the Lyth Valley.

Tuesday brought wild whistling winds and rain. Wednesday was calm, bright and unusually warm. I walked south, dazzled by the  low sun and seeing little.  Moisture hung in the air and the fells were hidden.   The day grew lively as I passed Helsington Church where I heard a young farmer calling to his dogs as her gathered his flock of sheep.   One broke loose and ran  fast toward the wall, leapt, tottered on the top-stones as it suddenly saw me below it on the track, landed at my feet and ran off.  Not sure which of us was the more startled.  The farmer told me it wasn't his and he wanted his dogs to drive it away. It appeared on the loose in Holeslack orchard a while later.   So the sheep-proof new laid hedge will serve its purpose- stock-proof.  I met the farmer later as I explored the snowdrop wood by the Holeslack orchards below the barn.   I love this old farmstead with its Westmorland chimney, its pigs sties abutting the barn and stables and in particular this gated and sheltered old orchard that attracts diverse birds. 
The National Trust have developed a track through Holeslack Wood.  There's an old ice house within the stone wall beside the farm and an old apple tree with a carpet of snowdrops beneath.  

I had come to see when the snowdrops would be in flower and was surprised to find them fully out.   I like to see them amongst bright mosses and brown winter leaves.   A day for photographers to capture Candlemass Bells. One lady asked me if I meant to photograph the mice too.  She had brought felt mice with her and placed them amongst the snowdrops.   The  flowers were a great attraction and so much better than those in our gardens, so we said. 
Snowdrops at Holeslack and SIzergh is a seasonal highlight.   Hedge-laying is a craft I love to see and something practical too. 

What do you make of this?  I came across it, by chance, in my photographic archive. A brief image-sequence taken on 20 November 2014, High Rigg and Raven Crag, Tarn at Leaves I think.  If I had written a journal  it is lost.   
On this dreary January day in 2026 my friend Pauline and I contemplated  these images,  sharing our thoughts.
I love to see clouds reflected in water and to discover pattern in the tangle and confusion that Nature sometimes presents.  I've long loved upland tarns and their flora -  Bog asphodel, Narthecium ossifragum,  grows with cotton grass on islets and on the boggy fringe  of the tarn.  Bogbean, Menyanthes trifoliata,  and pondweeds favour  open water.  Fells rising above the tarn  look frosty and drained of colour.  White cumulous cloud is reflected in the water, with hints of blue.  I reckon there was a dome of blue sky above me and there's a sparkle in these images, where sunbeams touched down on ice. The sun must have shone  to create those reflections. 
How puzzling  they are.  The reflection of the fell shows more precisely than the fell itself,  colour of dark chocolate.  Seed-heads of bog asphodel on the fringe of the tarn are reflected upside down in the water.   Up shows upside down and black shows white- it's a mystery!!   Bogbean dies back into the tarn during autumn and winter, leaving spikes to pierce the surface and pattern the water, dark spikes on a foil of water white  with reflected cloud.    Within the chocolate coloured reflected fell  spikes of bogbean glisten ice-white.   Here are elements of the water cycle made visible. 

The image above is intriguing.  There's an islet encircled with incipient ice and frosted seed-heads of bog asphodel on the marshy shore. They're hardy and will endure through winter and long into the next summer.  A  
Further out in the tarn there are vestigial spikes of bogbean.    The striking pattern of the introductory image shows an aquatic plant that might be a sedge or a long-stemmed aquatic plant.  Ice is forming on long stems and seed-heads.  Fine ice-filaments reach out across the web of stems.    White clouds are mirrored down onto the waters of the tarn but the icy aquatic plant looks to lie above them!  
Here's the same intriguing image. 

Signs of frost on the fells and ice forming on the waters of the tarn pierced with the dark spikes of bogbean.  In  the upper half of the image, toward the right, the frosty fell is reflected in the water.   Spikes of bogbean show in the chocolate-coloured reflection,  no longer dark but pale and white.  Some flecks of bogbean must be frosted because they  reflect sunlight.  The reflected shadow of the fell shows more precisely than the fell itself.  Pockets of marshy ground on the fringe of the tarn look icy.

Over some years I've been photographing the flora of upland tarns and their marshy surrounds so I search  my archive for bogbean and bog asphodel through the seasons. Images at Loughrigg Tarn show seed-heads of bog asphodel growing on islets in the tarn and on its marshy fringes.   Bogbean  grows out in the open water and sometimes in the waterlogged fringed.    In summer, bog asphodel has a flower-spike of yellow stars - briefly over.  Its seed-heads in autumn show rich colour, then  fade to straw-colour during winter, but they endure and can often show through snow.

An orienteer's comments during January remind me that we write in the context of our times and sometimes events break though, inescapable.
 President Trump's latest salvo dismisses NATO and the forces who responded when the US triggered Article 5 with a call to arms to its allies.  Misinformation and insult wound beyond wounds sustained in Afghanistan.
Trump seeks a Nobel Peace Prize,  demands it of the Norwegian Prime Minister, seeks legacy.
There's nothing new under the sun.  Shakespeare's Macbeth destroys himself and Scotland with tyranny.  At the end he reflects 
​ Act V scene V
And that which should accompany old age,
As honour,  love, obedience, troops of friends,
I must not look to have; but, in their stead,
Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath,
Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
The entire soliloquy might have been written in anticipation of Trump who rivals Macbeth for abuse of power,  and tyranny, but lacks his eloquence, lacks his self-knowledge. Listening to his speech at Davos one could almost fall asleep. He drones on, inarticulate, repetitive and rambling.  Then out of nowhere a blazing attack on his NATO allies. 
'a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
signifying nothing.' 

On a bright and sunlit morning a deep frost holds everything in its grip. Leaves of snowdrops show but there are only the first single flowers.  The lake is frozen  and the sun sparkles on pattern where aquatic vegetation is trapped in ice.  Vegetables in Sizergh garden are rimmed with frost,  sunk low with the biting cold.  

In the orchard at Sizergh blackbirds and a few robins feed on windfall apples that lie thick upon the frozen ground.  It seems a barrowful has been given to feed the birds since windfalls were mostly cleared earlier in autumn.   I think I hear a note of fieldfare in the conifers that fringe the rock garden but I see none.
Walking toward the orchards at Holeslack we pass a field whose fringes have been planted with sunflowers, teasels and seed-bearing plants that will help sustain birds during the February hungry-gap when berries may well be exhausted- already eaten or frozen and rotten.  Fieldfare fly over the golden stubble and vanish.  I find them again in the Holeslack orchard but they're nervous. There are no windfalls,  almost no fruit on the apple trees so food is scarce.  The birds fly over the orchard trees but do not settle on the ground, nor are there sentinels in the top of conifers that surround the orchard trees.   I know them by jizz, by years of following fieldfare.   I wonder whether a rapid decline in numbers affects their behaviour-  there is safety in numbers, it is said.  Long-tailed tits show, with great tit and blue tit. A nuthatch calls from the cover of conifers.   The orchard fronts a public footpath to SIzergh so families with children and dogs come through the gate and their voices scare off the birds. It's a secret world.  Where sunflowers are planted on the fringe of the field there are small birds flitting about,  seeking seeds. Mostly flocks of goldfinch with chaffinch. 

Hurray! Seasonal weather, at last.  A starry night and a hard frost at sunrise on New Year's Eve. 
Up on Scout Scar escarpment the low winter sun takes a while to rise high enough to reach the Lyth Valley.  When it does, light is fitful,  with a sudden blaze of intense colour- then pallor.   A pall of mist marks out the course of the RIver Kent and light down in the valley is misty.  There's a hard white frost to the south, where pastures are saturated. Further north,  pastures are brighter, greener, showing a slight rise above sea-level. Sudden changes in light are dramatic, and beautiful.

The fells are hidden with only a few glimpses of golden light.  It is not a clear day but the play of light is magical.
To the south, toward Morecambe Bay,  the pallor of ground frost and an evocative mistiness. To the north, along the escarpment,  there are sudden bursts of colour.
Where there are drifts of loess there are patches of heather, in sunlight and shadow.  Sometimes the sun sparkles frost on seeding heather, sometimes the frost has melted and heather shows in rich winter colours.  My heather sequence shows something of the structure of frost crystals. 

From vistas to minute detail.   From the topmost frost crystals on a stem of heather there are strands of spider silk descending.  

To someone who likes a challenge- how many threads of spider silk can to find in this image? 
2 January 2026  A very cold morning with an Arctic wind. The atmosphere was drier and, despite the bitter chill, there was little frost.   Crinkle Crags were crested with a hint of white, but most of the fells were free of snow although there was probably ice underfoot. Impossible to tell at this distance.

From Christmas Eve  to New Year's Eve there was fair weather, most welcome after a the rains of November and early December.  On the night of 27th December a cold and starry night was followed by a light ground frost next day.   Fair weather, but the light was different on each day- as this photographic sequence shows.
So close to the shortest day the sun is low in the sky. Walk south and the sun dazzles.  The moment it dips below the horizon the Scout Scar ridge is cast into gloom and light is gone by early afternoon.

Christmas Day saw bright sun although a dark mass of cloud, edged with brilliance, hung over Morecambe Bay and cast deep shadow on the Scout Scar ridge.  The distant fells were floodlit, a play of golden fell and shadows.   The Langdale Pikes look mysterious. The nearer, lower fells sunlit gold and winter trees etched on gold.
The day brought forth a host of walkers and dogs- often off leads sometimes distant from their owner.  This intensity of recreational disturbance impacts on wildlife and it's one of the factors why Scout Scar today is a different experience from when I wrote About Scout Scar twenty years ago.   I saw a sole buzzard this Christmas. No kestrel, no fieldfare, no redwing. 

28th December
The fells were hidden in mist and low cloud. I love the muted colours of winter woods and birch trees are always distinctive with their amethyst hue.  Younger trees and new growth show deep red-brown bark that colours the trees.  The downy birch sequence shows scars where new branches appear and catkins only show on more mature trees.

Sounds of the sea accompany us all the way to Walney Lighthouse and Haws Point.   I don't recall hearing the sea so loud on windy Walney and seascapes are wonderful.  All this, enhanced by solitude.  Somewhere out there is a Great Northern Diver.  Waves break on the rocks and sea foam gathers on the shore.  
In early December such beautiful light is precious.   Tracks from Lighthouse Cottages are puddled, telling of days of rain.  And named storm Bram is waiting in the wings, forecast for tomorrow.

From the sea-hide we look north toward the spit where rough seas break about the colony of grey seals.  In hazy sunlight the colony resembles a boulder-field but we know this place and can make out pale seal pups that  slither away from  breaking waves.  Sea-spray and saturated air give the scene the look of a painting,  impressions rather than pin-point clarity. 
A Hapo crane barge slowly makes its way out of the channel.   Whatever its purpose  it puts to flight gulls foraging amongst the seals,  a flock suddenly much larger than had been visible.  The crane's platform would be the perfect spot from which to look down on the seal colony.  

Rough seas break about the colony but on the landward side of the bay there's calm water, shades of aquamarine with gloss and ripples.    At this season the salt marsh is green-gold and a fine contrast. 

Approaching mid-night on Wednesday 3rd December,  an earth tremor shook the bedroom.  Magnitude 3.3, epicentre Silverdale where it felt ‘like a car crashing into the house.’  Waterfowl of Leighton Moss wetlands would have sensed its coming.  Birds pick up P waves (primary sound waves), humans are aware only of S waves (secondary waves.)  At 11.23 pm it's unlikely that anyone was out in the reed-beds to note the effect of an earth tremor on roosting birds.
Today, en route for South Walney my friend asks if I felt it. Yes, and something disorientated my dreams too.  Cattle and fox cubs in an English landscape  but a tiger and cub!!!  The earth moved and I conjured a dream-tiger, seeing  through a camera lens.  Sleeping and waking, I’m Nature Writer and photographer.  
​Flooded fields and rivers brim-full.  Dark winter trees silhouetted against the low sun.  A lingering mist in saturated air.  Storm Bram is forecast for tomorrow, rain and strong winds.  So today suggests  a moment of respite.  Arriving  well before high-tide, we hope  to see flocks of birds driven closer to the shore as they feed. 
From Coastguard Cottages there are distant birds on the water between slivers of salt-marsh.  A glimmering sunlight floods over the channel -catching the brilliant white of an egret in flight that comes down on the shoreline, black bill and legs,   long  yellow feet to stir the water for crustaceans.  Long neck plumes will herald the breeding season.  Litte Egret, Egretta garzetta. 
Hard to gauge how high tide will act upon the birds of the day- where they’ll be.  Birds feed as an incoming tide stirs up nutrients and they move before it.   Timing and precise location are tricky. 

A couple of seals show by the old pier.   Late in January, from Peggy Braithwaite hide, we watched an incoming tide push feeding birds before it- toward us.   The scene was lively with flocks taking to the air as  waves broke about them..  High tide is at 1.30 pm but much of the  salt marsh is already inundated.  There is one sliver of grass where Brent geese graze, beside Oystercatcher.
The low sun dazzles as we head toward the sea through sand dunes spiked with marram grass and pocked with rabbit holes.  Tigers in my dreams and vanishing like Alice down a rabbit hole, it's surreal. 
Is it sounds of the sea, the soft and evocative winter light that distinguishes the day- or the tally of birds?
We see lIttle egret, turnstone, brent geese, oystercatcher,  a female goosander, teal, a  flock of redshank,  Canada geese,  lapwing,  half a dozen curlew in flight. Mystery birds on slivers of land.  And small birds in silhouette in brambles.

A flock of redshank  roosts on a grassy shoal in a freshwater pool, heads  tucked deep into  breast plumage.   Numbers can increase dramatically in winter with the arrival of birds from Iceland.  A few teal swim close to the grassy shoal and some  roost amongst the redshank.
Small birds are twittering in bramble bushes along our return route to Coastguard Cottages.  The light is tricky and detail is hard to see. 

Looking into the sun, it's hard to make out birds roosting on another fresh-water pool.   There are larger birds amongst them with spangled plumage on the mantle.   I hear and see lapwing.
Thanks to naturalist Jeff Holmes for confirming these large waders are ' grey plover in full winter plumage.  They're attractive birds and their dark under-wing, distinctive in flight, distinguishes them from the white 'armpits' of golden plover. '
Grey plover breed in the Arctic  and are most common in the UK  from late summer to spring when they're found in coastal habitat and salt marsh.  In winter, the back shows a smoky grey chequered pattern, the belly is whitish and long legs are dark grey to black.  Grey plover, Pluvialis squatarola -   the bird is associated with the coming of rain.  Good to see them, now I'd like better images.
The small bird in the bramble is reed bunting-  a pale throat with dark stripe visible'.
As we drive off South Walney some half a dozen curlew fly overhead.

As a nature writer, I love to visit South Walney National Nature Reserve.  It's an important overwintering location for thousands of wildfowl and waders so I look -up what I've found on previous visits in winter.   And I check recent sightings at the Walney Observatory.  When Great Northern Diver and Hen Harrier are mentioned it's easy to be lured into wishing them into an appearance.   I tell myself it's important to keep an open mind when Climate Change affects  migratory pattern and may bring in unfamiliar species. 
Years ago,  at Kenfig sand dunes in South Wales, I was on a field-trip with Bristol Ornithological Club. It was winter and there was ice. We found a golden plover, frozen but preserved by ice and the plumage of its mantle still looked beautiful.  The chequered mantle patterning of Grey plover made me think plover but, without more detail, I was uncertain. 

Last night was cold and clear,  a starry night. The morning began with bright sunlight and a sharp frost.
 The Mushroom Shelter is a viewpoint on Scout Scar, with a panorama of snow-clad fells on this last day in November.  Recent weeks had been wet and dreary, the days growing shorter, so a brilliant Sunday brought forth walkers, runners and families with small children.
Views to the north were spectacular.  Walking south, the low sun dazzled and it was disorientating.  I could see little ahead of me, toward Morecambe Bay, and kept stopping to look north to the snow-clad fells, gullies etched by snow and dry-stone walls made visible.    To the east, the Howgills showed their distinctive geology,  smooth and regular forms in sunlight and shadow-  so different from the Lake District Fells. 
'A bonny day,' said a runner who stopped to catch his breath and take in the view.   Yes, for sure.
It's impossible to catch the full glory of the day, either in word or image but, for a nature writer, that's the challenge. Here is the place I know best but no day is ever the same, the quality of light can take you by surprise, show a familiar scene afresh.  Turning to head for home,  walking north, I could see clearly now the sun was behind me- the  fell illuminated November gold.  The angle of the low sun and my elevation showed the Mushroom poised against the backdrop of Red Screes - bringing the northern fells much closer.  Each rise and fall of the ridge changed the perspective.  Those fells will be out of reach until some time in the New Year, due to a landslip caused by heavy rains which has closed Kirkstone Pass. 
Here lies my way,  toward the kissing-gate leading down off Scout Scar, but today there was a novelty about it.  In this light  bare ash trees seem possessed of a spirit invisible at other seasons.  It's a fleeting perception. 
Gradually, the skies grew cloudy with wonderful patterns of bright white cumulous and by mid-afternoon a gibbous moon shone in the east, its face mapped with lunar seas.
No stars that night as the rains returned.