A sunny morning in this neck of the wetlands, on Day 723 of the Daily Poems. Our poet Jane Monach sees a Large Egret’s white majesty patterning the November sky.
How to watch wetland birds
Wait until late-autumn
when birds have flown from Europe
to enjoy our greater warmth
and food supplies.
We and they must gather
at estuaries, or on low land stretches
of water, often shallow.
They are feathered. We are fleeced
and thermalled, beanies and caps
on our heads, fingerless gloves
to adjust binoculars.
While birds dive and submerge
or skim fearlessly,
launch gracefully from slate water,
we are hunched in our watchfulness,
braving cold, rain and wind
channelled through the opened window-slits
of hides, searching in our stillness
for ducks: Gadwall, Widgeon,
Shelduck and Shoveller,
for waders: Lapwings and Dunlin
even a Little Stint.
Note the presence of twitchers
who can advise on the rare sighting
of a Green Woodpecker,
or block your view with their large
and much-fangled lenses.
The distant dark blob
isn’t a cormorant. They sit in their groups.
It’s the triumph of a Marsh Harrier, alone and regal,
as it perches on a tree-stump throne.
Look up: a Large Egret’s white majesty
patterns the grey November sky
with its jutting chest and fine flapping.
Above all, bring patience and hand warmers.
Jane Monach