Wild Portchester: No, No Egrets
I know little about birds — but they are not bothered. They take little notice of early walkers along the coast-paths. If action needed, a few flaps as I approach will casually lift them from fence to field or maybe an outrageous Olympian triple jump from standing start, one rock to another and another without touching the puddles between. Most don’t bother. Side-stepping caution is now a far more human trait.
Dogs demonstrate far more energy and ambition. They already know the tide will be high, and can hardly wait to leap into the waters. Soaked, they’ll return to their concerned owners shaking to share and shower their aquatic achievements and jump up to wipe muddy paws on some forgiving trousered leg. Even the most boisterous beasts will not disturb the ducks but steer well clear of squawking seagulls who could, if so minded, match barks with beaks. Harmony usually prevails. The swans who have made the passage over from Port Solent are now relaxed about their cygnet family. They must by now be thoroughly trained in the lock free-flow times: HW+/- 1 hour, or perhaps they just look for the green light by the gate.
Today the tide is already too high for the Egrets — they’d prefer to root around for tasty morsels at low tide. Their spindly legs would cause little drag as they take flight with almost immediate lift. Away from the waterfront, and less inclined to stand their ground, are the nervy deer who’ll shy away as fast as long legs will carry. As they scarper, they’ll likely disturb the pigeons and magpies. Above that fray a woodpecker may transfer from one high perch to another — rarely any great distance, judging by the rapid-fire trilling — a tweet for every wing beat. But at the water’s edge birdlife is undisturbed.
Two interesting human species inhabit these spaces. Neither are easily understood. Standing quietly for hours in cold water, casting and recasting, their enthusiasm for catching seaweed whilst dreaming of a bite from some foolish fish, must surely be a strange penance for unspoken misdemeanours. But fisher-folk are much more active than the birders whose special talent is stillness, binoculars at the ready, fingers on shutter triggers. They bring their chairs and often hunt in pairs, but passing joggers cannot fathom what they see in it. Some say there’s a white-tailed eagle lodged high in the castle walls, but that rare visitor was probably just on a flying visit from the Isle of Wight.
Fish, crabs, birds, dogs, deer, foxes, squirrels, cats: Portchester is teeming with more wildlife than people — they probably think they own the place. But today, on account of the tide, we have no Egrets.
