As we climb the river wall, our steps laboured by the steep financial institution, the tough wind all of the sudden hits us so quick it takes our breath away. The Butley river, with its saltmarsh and dirt banks, sweeps forward on my left. To my proper, Boyton Marshes stretches right into a shiny white horizon. These are the well-known Suffolk skies: huge and open.
Persevering with on the Suffolk coast path, curlew, Cetti’s warblers and skylarks name. As I look forward, redshanks busily scour the mud on the river edge. Oystercatchers fly previous us, following the river, and a marsh harrier glides above one of many islands within the distance.
We sit simply off the trail, out of the wind, to drink sizzling tea from a flask. Indicators of spring are in every single place: a dozen black-tailed godwits, every poised on one leg, heads tucked below a wing, their rusty pink chests aflame with summer time plumage. And flitting above the reeds, three swallows – the primary I have seen this 12 months.
As we resume our stroll, a spoonbill flies overhead. These spectacular, as soon as scarce birds can now be typically noticed on the coasts of East Anglia throughout the summer time months, and a few breed elsewhere within the UK. It’s a privilege to have them on my doorstep, and it’s amusing how a hen can look barely comical but sleek on the similar time.
For me that is nonetheless trumped, nevertheless, by the 2 small birds that fly throughout our path in a flash of black, white, gold and amber. They disappear behind dense reeds and bramble. We wait, peeping by way of our scope, holding our breath – they’re the unmistakable bearded tits. Harlequin-like markings on the male, gentle buff-coloured faces on the feminine. Their glossy, streamlined our bodies steadiness between the stems and so they transfer rapidly, making their distinctive gentle “pinging” name as they work their approach alongside the reeds, showing for less than seconds at a time earlier than diving again into the foliage. Might they be trying to nest? Do they have already got a nest? I hope so. In order to not disturb them, we creep away softly.
Later that day, I’m delighted to learn that these charismatic birds should not truly a tit; they belong to their very own household, the Panuridae. I replicate on this magical spot, and the splendour of understanding that each time I return, I’ll see one thing new.
