We’re running out of June. So Eddie and I decided to take a stroll onto the marsh, last time in Wild June and first time I had done so since the op on my knee last week. A bit of an adventure then. We took drinks, smoothie for Eddie and a beer for me, and found our usual place. Without, it has to be said, any vast expectations.
And at once a marsh harrier went past: a female, her creamy head shining out, one wing bearing a green tag for recognition – she was marked, I think, by the Hawk and Owl Trust. She was followed at once by a male: a stunning individual so startlingly pale I suspect he’s been mistaken for a hen harrier.
I’m pretty certain this is a bird I’ve seen before, but he looked even paler than usual. Perhaps my memory was at fault; perhaps he’d just had a bath. He came after the female in that fast shallow dive that harriers use, and playfully pounced at her back. She half-rolled, in what looked like playful acknowledgment, and they were gone.
So Eddie and I took our drinks in great content with the world. I felt that my first limping visit back here was rather specially blessed. The wild world will do that to you: make you feel that you — you and no one else – have been singled out for some of the planet’s finest things. It’s a fact that everyone who chooses to look and listen will have those moments — moments when you feel uniquely cherished and rewarded by the wild.
As we sat back to revel in that feeling a bird flew directly overhead, just out of reach. I caught first the silhouette against the sky, with the dagger-bill, and then a flash of colour: like radioactive smoked salmon. And that of course was a kingfisher.
We finished our drinks to the music of whitethroat and willow warbler before making our way back. We had a loaf of banana bread in the oven, after all. And… it seemed that Wild June had delivered once again. All you have to do is go out to meet it halfway and it’s there waiting for you. And you alone, just like everybody else, uniquely blessed…
Simon ; it is just a joy to be vicariously in the wild world with you. Such an antidote to all the other rubbish going on. Thank you
Carolyn Newman
And that goes for me too. Thank you Simon and Eddie. Robot
Beautiful…
What a wonderful description. Eddie’s lucky to have everyday access to such imaginative writing talent
(as well as the banana loaf.) B
Happy to hear you’re on the mend Simon. Yes, we that can see the beauty in the beauty around us are truly blessed. I count my lucky stars all of the time and constantly wonder at the fullness out there in the wild world.
Thank you Eddie for all of your blogs over this Wild June, hope to hear from you soon. Sue
Thank you Sue for messaging me, I do hope to do more blogs after June. Thank you for reading,
love Eddie
Dear Eddie, thank you for all your blogs – sad that June is over but hope you continue with your observations and drawings I have much enjoyed reading them. Lucky you in that hammock – I must get mine out.”
I think it’s the “without great expectations” bit that some people can’t get about getting out in nature. I can see some of my friend’s puzzlement when I’m (almost) just as happy at coming back after a quiet birding session as a day packed with exciting migrants. Without the times of everything hiding then the magical reveals would not be as “frissonny” That’s why there are no birding video games. Although perhaps one where you turned on and nothing happened for 15 minutes (a faint murmur in the background of blackbirds and robins) would be a good curative for players brought up on instant conflict and resolution.
The Barnes writing team is brilliant. I know making it happen can’t be an easy business so thank you to all of you. It was How to Be a Bad Birdwatcher that showed me how I could enjoy wildlife and your blogs are always a little refresher course.
SO BEAUTIFUL – THANK YOU !!
Simon, I am uniquely blessed for having found your blogs(and your books and occasional newspaper articles, we do not take a daily paper)