I'm not a birder by any stretch of the imagination but I do take a lot of pleasure in watching our flying friends. This week I treated myself to a stop on that beautiful tidal road to see what I could spot. Just ducks and gulls on this occasion but previously I got up close and personal with a curlew. Those murmurations of starlings never fail to delight. I've seen flamingos in the Camargue, bald eagles, trumpeter swans and a great big black and white kingfisher in Yellowstone and humming birds and cardinals on the Appalachian trail. Closer to home there was a spoonbill on the Exe Estuary. And once when I was walking on Crete, a lammergeier, a bearded vulture flew right over head to assess whether I was small enough to carry off for tea. That goodness I was too hefty for him!
The walk from our holiday apartment into the centre of Granada last week took us along the bank of the river Genil. Louis sniggered at this as he thought it sounded like 'genital'. That's teenage boys for you. Smutty to the last. On the first day I was thrilled to see hundreds of birds from the swallow family following the course of the river, swooping low to catch insects on their way. After that there were none. It occured to me that I'd probably been watching them flying up from Africa on their migration northwards. Perhaps they were the same ones that share the swimming pool with me at my favourite Breton campsite.