26 August 2011

I'm not waving, I'm drowning

Spent Wednesday getting bedraggled by a couple of thousand year storms. There I stood, on the English side of the stream, staring down-channel into the strengthening blow as the murky, hissing curtain of drench drew towards me; unfortunately, evasion was impossible and I just had to embrace the deluge. Luckily, my personal photographer was on hand to record the event for the inevitable, though as yet untitled, autobiography.

Despite saturated, figure-hugging (some might say lady attracting) combats and a nigh life-threatening case of trench foot, I did manage to stumble over Arctic and Common Tern, and a couple of Curlew Sandpiper.

My first terrible photograph of a Curlew Sand of the autumn.

One late-finish-cum-early-start later and the following morning broke all sunny and jubbly and smattered with passagey passerines. Spotted Flycatcher, Redstart and three Whinchat were the best, but a few Tree Pipit speeezed over, oodles of Yellow Wag and Wheatear decorated the dewy turf and the wet hedgerows were dripping with Whitethroat and phylloscs,...

... and all was well across favoured Albion's lustrous fields.

1 comment:

Admin said...

nice.... posting