Watching Oystercatchers ...

Penny handed me her blue binoculars - my eyelashes brushed against the eyepieces - there, in the shimmering circle of the lens, was an oystercatcher, dipping its bill into shining water - it was contained in the noiseless perfect world of Penny's binoculars - I held my breath, watching the slightly upturned bill, the eye like an orange bead - other oystercatchers flew by, white bars on their outstretched black wings - they're following the tide Penny said - 

I handed the binoculars back to Penny - we were in a hide at Arne, overlooking Middlebere Lake - the winding creek led to Poole Harbour - looking southwards, I could see the dark outline of Nine Barrow Down - the sky was filling with cloud - soon silver hail rattled against the closed windows of the hide - 

I saw redshanks feeding on the shoreline - beyond them, clustered in shallows on the far side of the creek, were some smaller birds - they're dunlins Penny said - and look, there, there's some wigeons - 

I savoured these names - oystercatchers, redshanks, dunlins, wigeons - how insouciant and brave they were - I began to be aware of the fascination of birdwatching - you were watching an ageless mysterious world, I thought, one we've separated ourselves from - 

On the way back to the red Peugeot, we passed groves of bich trees and tall pines - a very handsome ginger tom greeted us in the RSPB hut - Will later told me that the tom's name was Maine Coon and that he lived in Arne House - Will said he often saw him on his way to Shipstall Point - 

Yellow catkins caught my eye - 

Driving across the causeway, we saw a rainbow above the rooftops of Wareham - 

11.30

January 13 2014

Arne