The weather was so good today, easily made up for failing to connect with the Iberian Chiffchaff. I figured a late morning start would fit in with the continental relaxed way of life, cant imagine a Chiffchaff from Spain or Portugal hurrying up. Timing was irrelevant since the bird had not been heard of seen since yesterday evening. Oh well, still plenty to see here. A Willow Warbler nipped in and out of the bushes, and a Common Chiffchaff called. On The Fen: 4 Med Gulls, 1 Green Sandpiper, 2 Ruff, Ringed Plover and lots of Avocets and Black Tailed Godwits. A Swallow flew through.
Hardley, where it is often confusing to define where the garden ends and the marsh begins. Tumble-down houses and rickety shacks, away from any bus route and Team Sky sorts wrapped in lycra, this is a village that by choice is cut off. The secret is out, and pre-storm Ciara as many as 10 large lenses littered the river bank firing at will. Their target- Winter ghosts. First, the classic Scooby-Doo type, as a Barn Owl responds to an ill-advised squeak in the grass and heads towards the onlookers. Another quickly joins the hunt, their formation a picture of double-edged stealth. But these year-round residents are not the key objective today, that honour is given to the Short-eared Owl. 3/4 of these can be seen from the staithe at the minute, floating like giant moths over the tussocks and edges. In a recent article in The New Yorker, Jake Fiennes states "Everything is about edge". Hedges, ditches, scrub, forgotten tracts of land that link nothing and no-one. Fiennes, now ...
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