An improvisatory, essentially indefensible, randomly configured tragi-comedy
(no great revelations are likely to be accrued from its consumption)
11 April 2014
It was a morning of migrants, not paticularly rare migrants, but migrants. A sun-bathed, barely breeze-tickled, Uskmouth produced a Whimbrel on the foreshore; one Cuckoo, 43 Sand Martin, eight Swallow, one House Martin, one Wheatear, five Sedge Warbler, ten Blackcap, 23 Chiffchaff, four Willow Warbler and seven Lesser Redpoll in, around and over the lagoons; and one Whitethroat which caught the ear as I exited the car-park and then took 30 minutes to actually show itself (skulky Whitethroat, whatever next!).
PS. There were also a tonne of Cetti's Warblers,... oh, and another couple of Swallow graced the overhead wires near Nash.
It was like a duck pond out there today, oh wait, it was a duck pond out there today. A duck. A pond. Quack.