Given that the weather was set to change for the worse, I took my chance to watch the wash as evening built one last bright sunset before the dull rain set in. Despite a bristling wind, the scene was calm enough, with more and more gulls dropping in to bathe and settle in for the night. The water level had risen since the other day, and the Lapwing were once again confined to the slight ridges that cross the levels. Godwits came past, half silhouetted, half lit up in the peachy light, heading to roost. Small parties of Whooper Swans noisily announced their departure for the surrounding fields, or the larger communal gatherings further up the wash. Almost without notice the swans have started back to the summerlands- the wheat fields are suddenly empty where only a few days ago it seems they hosted thousands. Just a bare minimum hold on as if to distract from the main exodus.
The Glaucous Gull is there again, tugging at a clump of weed. Plunging his head under the water with wings spread for balance, he seems to struggle with his own bouyancy. The gull numbers have built up just as the light burns away, grey embers floating into the night.
