The Royal Society for the Protection of reedBeds' 'Come to Newport Wetlands campaign' is having the desired effect - by ten o'clock this morning the place was swimming in grocks walking their dogs/kids/rolls of flab (delete as appropriate) around the reedbeds whilst gabbing at high volume about the lovely weather or moaning about how long the walk to the car-park/'sea' is.
However, one should always attempt to make the best of a bad situation (this actually happened)...
Water Rails: [Squealing their heads off at the end of Reedbed 9]
Grock: Hello, do you know what that noise is?
Me: Yeah, sure, that's the Dwarf Water-pigs,... they escaped from Whitson Zoo years ago.
Me: Yeah, the squealing is two males fighting over a territory boundary.
Me: They can be quite aggressive this time of year, I guess it's all the testosterone.
Grock: Oh right.
Me: Best keep the kids on the path.
Me: Well, if they charge they can give a nasty nip.
Grock: Oh, [calls to his missus (a rather rotund woman who was watching two overweight kids lobbing stones over the sea-wall)] Clare,... Clare! Tell the kids to stay on the path. [turning back to me] They should put signs up.
Me: Yeah,... I guess most people know they're here.
Grock: Well we didn't, do you work here?
Me: No, I'm just birding.
Water Rails: [more squeals]
Me: [taking a few steps back from the reedbed] Well bye then.
Grock: Er, yes,... thanks.