Hot spell

A return to Titchwell in far more pleasant weather saw the place in completely different light. The Freshmarsh abounded with life- gulls returned to the islands, courting noisily and setting boundaries for the breeding season. We counted a dozen or so Mediterranean Gulls strutting with more muscular frame amongst the usual throng of Black-headed Gulls. Avocets grouped together in a sleeping party and other waders and wildfowl explored every niche, from beach to scrub. Across the saltmarsh a male Hen Harrier floated between sunlit patches of Sea Buckthorn, and was joined briefly by a Ringtail. A Merlin caught on the high blue sky did not trouble the pipits, and one Rock Pipit preened before us as the sun cast a jagged shadow from the bank. Against the sun a Curlew gracefully posed as it blended into the burnished  tones of last year's Sea Aster and brackish grasses. 

The temperature fell once the Sun sank, and we walked through the carr. Sitting in a mossy clearing, surrounded by fallen branches and new nettle growth sat a Woodcock. Alert, but comfortable, the whole world captured in its deep eyes.