I’m starting to map the year in birds.
By number – it’s the rowdy herring gulls; currently settling down for some domestic harmony on nearby roof-nests, the geese on their fly-pasts and the canny crows who dominate. But ahead of the swallows and sand martins, my attention is reserved for the blackbird – evening sentinel – outside my window and out on the dunes and marshes for the skylarks – tiny signals hanging in the air.
With so much sky to fly in it’s no wonder they’re all here and it’s no wonder their feathers, evolution’s gift, decorate the ground below.
