This morning I walked up to Roswell Pits in bright spring sunshine. There were twelve Redwings in the paddock at Thistle Corner, sharp in the cool air, but as I walked on, the Spring feeling rose. A Chiffchaff sung from the first block of trees I passed, and two more were singing near the top of Springhead Lane. Bullfinches flew past and Dunnocks seemed to spring from every bush. Down by the sewage farm both Siberian chiffchaffs flitted about, one in an extreme state of tail moult. The herons were not particularly active, but on the wet meadow a dozen snipe poked around and twenty five Teal snoozed among the tussocks.
