Buffeted sideways by the gale, we descend to Tindale Tarn, a small lake in the RSPB reserve of Geltsdale. Skylarks spring up from rough pasture around the stony track to sing shrill and sweet as piccolos in a stormy sky. This land, once mined for coal and lead, is an important breeding area for upland birds; curlew, redshank and lapwing call as we huddle in the open-sided hide by the tarn.
A flock of sand martins skim the choppy water, having come here to feed from their nests in a nearby sand quarry. A cormorant is fishing, and tufted duck bob on the dark grey water. Wind catches the surface and runs with it, making flurries of waves. The back of a mute swan, neck submerged, resembles a plump meringue. The female sits on a nest close to the hide, dragging reedy stems around her body with her orange beak, primping and perfecting the huge mound.
Lists of recent sightings are kept in a perspex covered box inside the hide, tantalising names such as otter, water rail, smew, reed bunting, goldeneye. For some years a black swan lived on the lake and it’s been a stopover for osprey and little egret. Red kite and rough-legged buzzard are sometimes seen, but today it’s oystercatchers, scudding along as gusts tear seeds from the velvet tops of reedmace.
A wren nips through primroses in the wood behind Tarn House, a thick-walled farmhouse evolved from a defensive tower. Blackthorn is flowering and hawthorn leaves just emerging; spring is slow in coming here. A companionable group of greylag and Canada geese are grazing the short grass as we fight the wind across marshy ground.
It becomes firm underfoot where spoil heaps fan out below the soaring masonry of lime kilns. This was the site of one of the earliest zinc smelters in Britain, once hot from the furious blast of 28 furnaces. Much of the slag has been removed, but some blackened, twisted lumps still shadow the streamside. Looking back, the tarn is crested by white horses and the geese erupt in a clatter of strident voices.
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