Wrestling

 Monday June 15

Going out on Monday is getting to be a habit. One with reason behind it. It's not the weekend, and holiday crowds do not generally go to birding spots, apart from coastal places with food available. 

Not as many en route stops as usual, as Snettisham high tide was soon after seven and we wanted to see some water for a change. That idea didn't work out. Sculthorpe Mill was alive with bird song, such a treat. In five minutes we heard/saw :

Garden Warbler, Blackcap, Song Thrush, Blackbird, Greenfinch, Goldfinch, Goldcrest, Collared Dove, Chaffinch, Wren, and Blue Tit. No Spotted Flycatcher again, no Little Owl at Abbey farm and no waders all day. Not a single one - and that includes Lapwing.

Driving back towards the entry slope at Snettisham, Pam noticed a Grey Heron at the other side of the pool. She took a few photos before I asked her if she would turn round so that I could do so. The bird was intent on lunch.


It struck at lightning speed


then flew off into tall undergrowth with its booty.

 



 

One of those interludes which charm, and are totally unexpected.

I'd noticed some lovely Mullein plants on the way in, many of them standalone's so that they could grow well and in a natural shape. No Mullein moth caterpillars, as yet, to shred the woolly. glaucous, leaves.

I can never resist Hunstanton's Fulmars, huddled on the cliff face.

 


We saw several swathes of scarlet poppies in the west of the county, not photographable from the roadside. Their shape and position made them look as though they may have been freshly planted rather than a natural upsurge from centuries old seeds. The ones we saw behind Wells North pools were a natural phenomenon. Poppyland, sometimes applied to Norfolk.

 

oppy Land is a term that was coined in the 19th Century by the poet and theatre critic Clement Scott and generally refers to the section of the North Norfolk coast from Sheringham to Mundesley. The actual term 'Poppyland' first appeared in Scott's poem The Garden of Sleep - which was composed in Sidestrand churchyard. 
The Garden of Sleep

On the grass of the cliff, at the edge of the steep,
God planted a garden - a garden of sleep!
'Neath the blue of sky, in the green of the corn,
It is there that the regal red poppies are born!
Brief days of desire, and long dreams of delight,
They are mine when Poppy-Land cometh in sight.
In music of distance, with eyes that are wet,
It is there I remember, and there I forget!
O! heart of my heart! where the poppies are born,
I am waiting for thee, in the hush of the corn.
     Sleep!     Sleep!
                   From the Cliff to the Deep!
                                 Sleep, my Poppy-Land,
                                                Sleep!

 

 

 

 

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