Swansong

A large dose of what makes our land so green at Inner Marsh Farm this evening had the majority of the wildfowl milling around despondently on number one pool.

The notable exception was two Whooper Swans – probably newly arrived – looking absolutely cream-crackered on the hide pool.

They looked about as likely to move as an Israeli settler on the West Bank, but after a few verses of tuneless trumpeting they were off and over the marsh using what was probably their last drop of fuel.

Having stayed under the flight path to Heathrow over the last few days, I am always incredulous to think that less than twelve hours ago, some of these giant aluminium behemoths were flying over exotic far flung lands.

But to me, some of the incredible journeys migrating birds make under their own steam is in many cases and to use the most overused superlative: unbelievable.

I have heard a few whispers and seen a couple of reports of both Bewick’s and Whooper Swans from all over the estuary during the last couple of days – winter is truly just around the corner.

Until later.