A lunar crescent, skyward horned.
A tail which traces scree and ling.
A plaintive tone, a mournful tune.
A solitary black and bib.
Alone in rocks above the scars,
Where streams from bogs first scratch their beds
With steady tick like lowland merle,
A lost and wayward song of moors.
The moon is pitched in afterglow
And scattered with the trace of stars.
The melancholy call of space
A flick of night pitched wing and gone.
And left as one with what was once,
The sadness of a memory’s song.
There are cons to early starts on the patch, but today was very much about the prose. A male Ring Ouzel found feeding on the grassy path adjacent to the river on the old Pitch and Putt at the Waterworks was a real treat. Maybe the same bird seen yesterday, it fed purposefully on the damp surface, unearthing morsels while being harrassed by obstinate Blackbirds, it's bold white gorget piercing through the dingy morning light.
Today there was a real fall of these montane thrushes in the south, so it was nice to share on the feast of Ouzels that were passing through, some localities seeing numbers upward of 40 individuals. I observed it for around ten minutes before it flew into trees at the eastern end before being lost to view.
Nearby, a Kingfisher could be heard calling, 15 Teal and three Gadwall were observed on the channel, and a minimum of five singing Willow Warbler were recorded. Three Sedge Warbler on the northside of Walthamstow Marshes were doing a bit of this 'zrüzrü-trett zrüzrüzrü-trett zrüzrüzrü psit trutrutru-pürrrrrrrrrrurrrrrr vi-vi-vi lülülü zetre zetre...', a decent but brief look at a vocally explosive Cetti's Warbler in thickets next to the boardwalk, and a Common Whitethroat scratched away opposite the paddocks. Five Sand Martin flew up river.