Contrail reflection

Contrails, like constant traffic rumbles and roars, are things we tend not to notice. Our brains are brilliant at blocking out extraneous noise. I love a sunrise and a sunset but, almost without exception, they are marked by contrails. We often take these marks for granted, we don’t notice them anymore. This morning, I caught a reflection of a plane in a still puddle of water on the estuary. A straight, purposeful line in the mud and water.

Peewit sunrise

Sunrise is my absolute favourite time of day. I am very good at sleeping, and very bad at getting up, but when the weather is forecast to be clear, frosty, foggy or snowy, and I have time to get out before work, then I force myself out of bed early. It’s always worth it.

These tiny dots are a flock of lapwing (honest!). Due primarily to habitat loss, these lovely birds have declined in population by 80% since the 1960s. It is absolutely vital that we leave space for wildlife so that future generations can experience the thrill and pure joy of the wild.

Last May, I traveled to the Isle of Mull and camped next to a beach on the west coast. The neighbouring field was covered with wild yellow irises and beeped to the sound of peewits early in the mornings. The lapwings sounded like a convention of robots, a gathering of R2D2s, chatting away. It was a surreal and quite wonderful experience. The thought of these pure voices being silenced one by one is simply too unbearable.

Pear-fect starlings

Starlings. I love them. They are beautiful, characterful little birds in their own right, but when they join together to create their winter murmurations, they are truly stunning. I have been very lucky to regularly watch a murmuration at my local reedbeds, but over the past few weeks they’ve moved south and are now gathering over Walberwick and Dunwich. This lovely little group formed an almost perfect pear-shape this evening. If you haven’t had chance to watch a murmuration yet, I urge you to. It’s magical.