Couldn't relocate the Twite this morning, mind you, only seeing the Linnet flock (now a 20 strong throng) in flight heading towards the Glamorgan boundary didn't help. Did see a few Water Pipits (no more than two at any one time though), plus singles of Blackcap and Chiffchaff. I was also presented with a perfect opportunity to immerse myself in The Jack Snipe Game.
Naturally enough, I can't go into details, the very mention of the game is probably too much for the more draconian members of the order, but think of it as something akin to Das Glasperlenspiel plus mud. I can divulge that today's period of play lead me to momentarily doubt the existence of the snipe, then, in turn, the existence of the saltmarsh and I was left knowing only I persisted in an anchorless, undifferentiated time and space. It was only via a fleeting understanding of the primal homology of snipe and marsh, and yet the fragmentary internal nature of each within the basal human consciousness, that I began to harmonise search image with quarry and found the snipe (or allowed the snipe's presence to form in my reality by way of retina, nerve and cortex) - a new way of seeing the snipe! A break through moment for someone at my level I think you'll agree. And how did I do overall? Well, I'll let you decide (pics below), suffice to say, I performed to my current position in the grand hierarchy of things, not exactly Magister Ludi but I persist with my struggle towards a dynamic fusion of meditative mind and meaning within nature, and continue to peer blindly into the internal cosmic mystery that is... Lymnocryptes minimus.
And I looked, and behold a small horsegok: and his name that sat on him was Jack, and Hell followed with him [before you ask, I was listening to Johnny Cash, not reading Revelations].