The low cloud has lifted from the trees on the hill. Across the heathland below, the young silver birches light up gold and green. Passing through a gate, I exchange the grey sand of the heath for the black mud of the woods and a jumble of multicoloured leaves that crumple under my feet. A single, golden, oak leaf spirals down to the ground in front of me. A nuthatch calls loudly above, and a party of tiny goldcrests dances through the branches that bridge over the track.
I walk on to a viewpoint that overlooks the south brooks. Here, the sounds of winter on the marshes are building: the soft, insistent piping of teals, the eager comedy-whistle of wigeons, the honking of geese. The grey sky is busy. Dozens of groups of birds – gleaming shelducks, bouncing lapwings, small dark teals, heavy-billed shovelers, long-legged black-tailed godwits, noisy greylag and Canada geese – all circle, hurriedly flapping. Some are flying away to another part of the brooks, but most are coming in to land.
In the distance, over the long grass and reed by the riverbank, a dark marsh harrier floats, stalls and drops down out of sight. Nearby ducks take off in a hurry, but most of the birds seem untroubled by the bird of prey – it isn’t coming near them yet. Elsewhere on the pools and surrounding fields, undisturbed, more ducks sleep, waders dig in the mud and hundreds of geese are waddling across the grass, munching.
Two more birdwatchers join me. I nod and smile, but let them enjoy the sounds and the spectacle without intruding for a few minutes. We compare our sightings, and they point out a bird I haven’t spotted yet. Weaving among the lapwings is a cream-coloured wader – a ruff – lacking the male breeding finery that gives the bird its name. It’s still pretty, with mottled, dark brown back, yellowy legs and a pale base to its bill, and it’s a rare find here, as it stops briefly on its way to Africa.
Eventually, it’s time for me to move on. I pick up my telescope and wish the couple a good day’s birding – and thank them for the ruff.
