Exactly a week ago tonight we were camping out on the Teign Estuary.
We’ve got the tent up, climbed in.
And then the something magical happens.
The sound of a bird’s baleful burbling across the silent water. Which then turns into a high pitched melancholy flutey wail.
Then sounds of other night birds waking up. Owls hooting. Wading birds wading about.
I have to get the camera recording all this magical moon music. It’s wonderful.
It’s a curlew that’s what that is. Calling for a mate possibly. And possibly its mate is curlew calling back from somewhere over there.
These curlews flute and flootle across the echoey estuary far and wide.
They’ve taken over, captured this estuary.
Their pervasive presence dominates the soundscape.
Dominates the inside of our tent, the inside of our heads.
All night long I have to keep picking up the camera to record their plaintive callings.
And an odd owl or two hoots off from away in the trees on the left side bank.
This is what we wanted, what we hoped for; but could never have expected.
Something to surprise the wonder out of us.
A solo curlew concerto, with supporting birdy wind ensemble.