Second helpings

The warbler is showing commendable loyalty to the southern end of the shelter belt. I bowled up this evening to a completely birder-less bench, sat down and, within a few minutes, the familiar sub-song trickled out of the exact same bush John, Helen and I first heard it in yesterday. I managed to get a few brief but close(ish) views before a series of showers swept in and it did what any self-respecting southern European warbler would, and disappeared to some unseen cozy little branch in the deepest recesses of the, newly christened, "Subalp clump". As soon as the clouds parted and the sun reappeared the warbler did likewise (reappeared that is, not parted, that might have been very messy) and we, there were now half a dozen present, had another brief look before it took umbrage at the noise-emitting-gadget-ridden birders' and flitted off. It reappeared once more just before dusk, at which point I took another stunning photograph.

Look there it is, behind all those pesky lichen-clad twigs yet waaaay in front of the plane of focus. That sort of subject placement takes real skill.