Sunlight and an ebb tide create pattern as sand-bars show through the water. We sit on lichened rocks looking out to Morecambe Bay, entranced by the constantly changing light. Behind us, to landward, the sky is deep blue. Arnside Knott is no more than a shadow.
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Water-birds roost half-hidden in reeds on the fringe of the pool. After somnolence comes lively action as pintail take to the water close to the hide. They give a ring-side performance in a flurry of courtship behaviour and feather-care. Winter visitors, most will breed in Iceland and Scandinavia and that migratory flight calls for good condition, with strong flight-feathers. With the sun low in the sky winter light is distinctive. Hawthorn along the disused railway track were bare of fruit so with scant food-source there were no fieldfare or redwing. A small flock in flight might have been winter thrush, might not. Scandal Beck gleamed out of the shadows. A dipper perched on a rock and flew beneath Smardale packhorse bridge. Can we name the flower from the winter seed-heads, or from memory of the summer? The Mirror and the Light 'The title mirrors what’s gone before, casts light on it, sometimes fresh light, sometimes things are not as we thought, we come at them from a fresh angle, gaps are filled in, things we did not know.’ Hilary Mantel. Choristers sing softly, a Tudor Mass, The Westron Wynde, tells of loss and longing, of separation. From today's cache of Bearded Tit images here's a favourite. I might almost count the number of ginger feathers in the fanned tail. Black vent and under-tail complement drooping black moustachios against a soft white breast. How might this fluffed-up portly little bird feel in the hand? It's been ringed so someone knows. We cluster round the grit trays, cameras clicking- hoping for images of the Bearded Tit. Also named the Bearded Reedling of reed-bed habitat. |
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