Having posted on some birds seen in Cley yesterday we decided to hang on until dusk, not quite knowing why, but with a vague plan to then eat on the way home.
As dusk approached we were on the eastern end of the Cley reserve on the Norfolk coast, on the way to Salthouse.
I quite liked this shot of two greylag geese landing (when most geese in the area were pink foot yesterday). I was looking towards Blakeney:
Saying that, I preferred this one without the geese:
But then, turning around, having just spotted a little grebe to the right of that last shot, we saw this extraordinary sight:
There are more than 25 birds in that shot. They were almost murmurating. They are a mix of herons (the dark ones) and little egrets (the light ones). And then they settled to roost together in those trees. It was a totally surprising and staggering sight. We had no idea there was a roost there, or that we were at the right place, at the right time, to see this.
It was well worth waiting for dusk.
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Wonderful images. Almost reflective of the nations mood as little by little, light in humanity is mindlessly replaced by darkness, not naturally as the world turns, but by way of ignorance and evil in political wrongdoing. The words of Dylan Thomas, who perhaps demands more hope from us all, seem aptly fitting here.
‘Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.’
Thanks
The light in those shots, especially the first gives it the texture of a watercolour. Extraordinary!
Completely unedited
Great photos. I’ve been visiting Blakeney for 50 years and was there last week. What a shame I missed you! It would have been terrific to discuss monetary matters over a few pints of Wherry in the King’s Arms
You would have been more likely to find me early morning in The Two Magpies – always a worthwhile destination for me. But I could have been persuaded by the Wherry – which is a distinctive pint – and the conversation.
Having a pint and a chat with you Richard would be the highlight of my year!
🙂
My old stomping ground – fabulous.
One of my favourites
Lovely pics, thanks. The more you look the more you see. (platitude alert!). I`ve a serious question, as I can`t get a serious answer from the RSPB (member), for the last 20 years we`ve had many mallards and a devoted though changing pair of Canada geese by our stream. This year, zero. Do you know if there is a serious source of information about avian flu publicly available? There is a pointer to chicken farming effluent as a vector, but info is hard to come by.
To cross over to your other fascinating blog, if I may, you have introduced me to a whole new world concerning capitalism, MMT, and thoughts of value/price etc. Thank you.
I am not hearing of any serious avian flu outbreaks right now, nor seeing evidence as I did three years ago, and I think I would hear, having enough contacts to do so.
And,thanks re the rest