I popped the phone into my dressing gown pocket and switched off the lights to go upstairs. All the furniture in the room was visible and outside a silver light was filling one quarter of the sky: the full moon behind lacey clouds. My phone took a few minutes off alarm clock duty to let me focus on what I saw – through a glass darkly – what I saw with my inward eye was more than my external eye in the camera could record. It was worth remembering and, I hope, worth sharing.
This oak was in leaf a few days before the trees in the woodland behind it. The golden green will soon darken up. The path winds up from Canterbury city to the University of Kent, a popular walk with local people and a breath of fresh air for university people going about their business.
This winter our walk in and out of town has often featured, at ground level, a young heron, who seemed to be making a living in the shallows of the River Stour. A few yards upstream the water is much deeper, due to the sluices from the former mill site. This provides deep water and a living for a couple of cormorants who dry themselves on the roof of the sheltered housing block, or else the trees across the road from there.
6th April, Mrs Turnstone and I were in Woodbridge, Suffolk, for a change of air and scene. A walk across a little level crossing brought us out of town to a bench with an untidy patch of willow scrub behind us and the estuary before us; that was where we were looking, with shelduck, gulls, crows and many different waders. I used to be more confident in identifying these when I could count on using my beach-side lunch breaks from work; however today there were knots, redshanks, oystercatchers, curlews and a whimbrel, as well as oystercatchers, an egret and a few crows.
I would have left the bench happy to have seen these, but there was something else behind us. Not the goldfinches that were highlighted by the pollen-laden pussy willow, but a real singer, a nightingale, happy to have arrived here safely.
Will he and his mate spend the summer in this – to many human eyes – scruffy eyesore? It would be good to think many people will hear him. Mrs T and I are glad to have heard him, newly arrived from the South, just as many of the birds on the mud were preparing to fly to their Northern summer homes.
Will Turnstone 