The brightness of this morning's sun belied just how cold it was at the sewage farm, and it was no wonder that the chiffchaffs were late to work. I contented myself by watching the Grey Wagtail as it poked around the puddles, lemon undertail piercing the gloom as it must do in the shadowy gullied streams and cateracts that they are more typically found in. At last the Goldcrests trembled into action- three birds chasing through the cypress belt in front of me. Finally a Chiffchaff appeared near the central filter bed, one of ours, a collybita. Seconds later the bird emerged, white underparts dazzling and overexposing in the camera. Twice it flew over my head into the trees by the railway, but twice I failed to pick it up at close range. It just seemed to disappear, only to magically reappear back at the bush in the middle of the sewage farm.
