In Stratford this morning, I was walking along the south bank of the river when I saw a Grey Heron on the opposite bank, standing in some reeds below the RSC’s Avonbank Gardens. I got as close as I could, allowing for the width of the river, and began taking photos, but the heron was not impressed and promptly took off. However, instead of flying away along the river as I’d expected, it crossed over to my side, landing about fifty metres further along the bank, and then stomped across the path towards the recreation ground.
After standing under a tree for a few seconds, gazing around as if wondering what this new environment might have to offer, the bird turned and stomped back again – right across the path of a dog walker – before lifting off and flying back to the north bank, where it perched on a rotting tree stump near the chain ferry landing. As I approached again it eyed me with what I took to be extreme disfavour – though to be fair, Grey Herons rarely look welcoming – but this time it held its nerve and its position.
This afternoon I drove down to Slimbridge to collect the Boy Wonder from his mother, arriving to the news that the Boy had fallen in some mud on his way out of school, and the need to clean him up and change his clothes had put the Cardiff duo so far behind schedule that they weren’t likely to arrive until about half an hour after WWT closing time. I was Not Pleased – in fact, my expression was probably quite similar to the Grey Heron’s – but in the event, I was able to use my unexpected hour in the reserve quite productively.
A yomp down the nearest run of hides, in fast-fading light and increasingly heavy rain, improved my bird list by six to ninety four species, which by my standards is a pretty good haul for January. Best of the six was the mottled blur in the middle of tonight’s second image, which I took from the Martin Smith hide. “Excuse me,” I said to a young man with a birding scope, “But do you know if the Jack Snipe is still around?” “Well it certainly was,” he replied. “It’s been showing really well.” And after swivelling his scope and adjusting it: “Yep. Still there, in the middle of that clump of cut reeds. You’re lucky – they don’t usually give as good a view as that.” I thanked him and began working around the reeds, eventually managed to locate the Jack Snipe, and didn’t feel the need to confess to my informant that I’d excitedly shot two Teal and a Wigeon before finally spotting my quarry. Please remember when you view the photo that this is an unusually showy specimen.
When life in the hides became too uncomfortable I went to the café and had a pot of tea, then browsed the books in the shop and bought the new edition of the Smallshire and Swash guide Dragonflies of Britain and Ireland. Then, after chatting with the member of staff at the till for a few minutes, I was still in time to catch the daily waterfowl feeding at the Rushy Pen, before the reserve closed at 4.30pm. The shop assistant had told me that under normal circumstances the car park barriers are shut half an hour after closing time, but that today she thought they might stay open longer, because there was an after-hours event happening on the reserve. I’m glad to report that she was right, because it was 5.10pm when L screeched into the car park – and another few minutes after that when she zoomed away again, leaving the Boy and me to follow at a more decorous pace. Friday evening traffic on the M5 can be a nightmare, but happily today it wasn’t, and we made it back to the Shire, where Granddad was delighted to see us, not too long after everyone’s usual dinner time.
R: L2, C4, D15.
