June 19 I was sitting still, gazing across at the marsh… perhaps you get tired of reading that; if so, many apologies. The fact is that I have yet to get tired of sitting and the gazing across marshes. A bird was in sight for about half a second, getting on for a mile away,… [Read More]
Don’t take a field guide, take Eddie
June 18 I have said this before, but I’ll happily say it again: next time you go out in the wild, don’t take a field guide, take Eddie. Go anywhere with Eddie and you won’t just see things. You’ll see deeply familiar things for the first time. Or hear them. Eddie was in full spate… [Read More]
A rainy night – and why the dodo went extinct
June 17 I had spent rather too long working out exactly what I would say to a rather oppressive editor in the next email. It was a useless exercise anyway; it was half-past three at night. But when I eventually got to sleep I dreamed that a horse I was leading got away from me… [Read More]
On swift sail flaming from storm and south
June 16 Ineluctable modality of the aerial, at least that if no more, flight through my eyes… Apologies, dear readers — if there are any left — for this flight from accessibility. You will see from the date that this is Bloomsday: the anniversary of the day on which the fictional events of Ulysses… [Read More]
Spice up your garden
June 15 I had cooked a curry feast – mutter paneer, faux chicken in coconut milk and chillies, dal and rice. Eddie, deeply attuned to the mood of Wild June, suggested that we ate with plates on knees, halfway down the garden. Good call. Because our meal coincided with a fledge-out of great spotted woodpeckers…. [Read More]
Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside
June 14 I was filled with desire to see forever. True, the Norfolk sky is not the most claustrophobic prospect on earth, but I was mad for a view even less restricted. That means the sea. So we went to Pakefield. After all, we’re allowed to now. Pakefield is on the Suffolk coast, and it’s… [Read More]
Me, Eddie and the workaday peregrine
June 12 Eddie and I were taking a late afternoon stroll around the marsh, an activity that always involves at least as much sitting as walking, at least as much listening as talking. We do it often, but it’s become daily thing during Lockdown. You can’t mistake a falcon for anything else – at least… [Read More]
No cheese and a bird too far
June 11 Morning chores: and a sudden burst of song. Not the usual sort of song, that’s why I heard it so clearly. You get used to the everyday singers and a song that breaks the pattern is like a shout. No great mystery though. It was a lesser whitethroat. A brisk rattle, a bit… [Read More]
Sweet Waveney run softly till I end my song
June 10 Our friends Thomas and Hilary live on a boat with their two children. Their on-board lav had packed up and for some reason we had their back-up thunder-box — so we went down the road to give it back. They live, as you would expect, on the river, and after our socially-distanced conversation… [Read More]
Whitethroat
June 9 You are not just a member of a species. You are also an individual. That is true for any representative of Homo sapiens who might be reading these words, that is equally true of the representative of Sylvia communis who would be witnessing their composition if he wasn’t so busy right now. The… [Read More]