Whenever I'm out and about in the
countryside I always carry a camera of some description, even if only a high
resolution compact like the Nikon P7100, which is capable of snapping in RAW
format. Generally though I have a DSLR close by, even if out with the rifle.
I'm not a 'purist' nor professional photographer so the lens I use on shooting
sorties will be a small but practical superzoom such as a Sigma 18-250mm. Good
enough to get that off-the-cuff wildlife pic but small enough to pack enough in
a gamebag. If I'm just stretching my legs with the lurcher, such as today, I'll
take a heavier, more purposeful lens like my Sigma 50-500mm zoom. Attached to the Nikon D7000 and slung on
Black Rapid Sports harness, it's quite a beast and you know when you've walked
a few miles with it!
My home is close to the Marriott Way, a
disused railway line that has been converted into a cycleway / footpath that
stretches between Norwich city centre and Aylsham. The path passes through some
of the most attractive farmland in Norfolk, including some of my shooting
permissions. Much of it cuts along the valley of the River Wensum, a winding
chalk-stream rich in kingfishers, otters and other wildlife. Though it can be a
busy cycling thoroughfare if you pick your times you can see much of this
fauna. Which is why I picked the hour before dusk today to give Dylan, my
lurcher, a good run and enjoy some recreational exercise myself.
The late February sunshine had injected
some friskiness into the winter lethargy of bird and beast. Though not quite
Spring, titmice and finches flirted among the still naked boughs of the beech
and hazel lining the wide sandy track. It's as though the sun blew the whistle
and the mating game is on. Out along the distant fence bordering a sheep pasture,
rabbits chased amorously. A lively warren, on the wrong side of my permission
boundary. No matter. They will ensure, through their creep and incursion, that
my presence will still be welcome beyond the wire this summer.
This late in the day, with the mist rising
lightly from the flood meadows and the rooks thronging homeward overhead, the
temperature was already on the wane. The pale moon which had hung in the blue
sky all day promised a hoar frost tonight. It was no surprise then, when I
stepped out onto the iron bridge, to see a barn owl hunting keenly. She sailed
up and down the fringes of the meadow like a huge moth, following the bends of
the river. I watched .. and snapped .. as she made her feints into the sedges
and came up with nothing. Then, she struck gold. A vole, carried out into the
meadow, into the shorter cattle-grazed turf. I watched her toy with the tiny
mammal before lifting it with her beak and then swallowing it, as a kingfisher
eats a minnow, in two gulps. 
As she cast off again, I glimpsed a snow
white form perched on a tree limb beyond where the owl had fed. Totally out of
synch with its surroundings. A little egret, becoming a common sight hereabouts
now though certainly not a native. A tiny, slender cousin to the grey heron but
with the plumage of an archangel .. pure white. Its black gaiters and yellow
slippers make it look slightly Bohemian but that sharp black bill is as deadly
as the herons. A keenly honed fish or frog spear. It took off, perhaps sensing
my vigil, then courted danger as it floated across the power lines and out of
sight. 
A sonorous, rhythmic noise made me jump and
made the lurcher leap up to look over the bridge parapet. My camera swung up
like a shotgun. A mute swan beat up and over the bridge just yards above us and
I could feel the downdraft from its powerful wings as I focussed and consigned
its image forever. On the walk home, a robin stopped to serenade us from a
fence post. A reminder, as if I needed it, that tonight would be as cold as a
warlocks heart.
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