Sunday, November 17, 2013
As I needed one or two things from Sainsbury's this afternoon, I carried on afterwards down to the flood. Out in the field were about fifteen golden plover, but soon a larger flock flew in to join them. I counted 50+ and took some pointless pics in atrocious light. But I like the reflection of the windows; a reminder that some people have some very nice birds at the bottom of their gardens!
Greger came along on his route march but decided to travel home in comfort with me. I took a quick snap of the common flood, and we beat a hasty retreat from clouds of flies.
Back at home as we stood outside cleaning the mud off our boots, an unseen blackbird began to sing. Instead of the full rich outpouring of spring this was a slower, more muted song as though the bird itself had no real conviction in what it was doing. It sounded like the ghost of summer past.
// posted by Christine @ 8:29 AM 
