July this year is showery and cool. While I’ve heard people complaining about the uncharacteristic summer weather, I’m feeling grateful, because southern Europe and northern Africa are in the grip of a searing heatwave. I wish I could tell the birds there, who must be suffering with the heat, that they should head up here to cool down.
This evening I’ve taken a walk along the Camel trail at the Padstow end. It began warm and sunny as I strolled along the path which, despite the holiday season, was fairly quiet. I’d timed it poorly though, because the tide was right in, which is not ideal for spotting wading birds as it pushes them back to remote parts of the estuary. But I counted butterflies as I walked along, including gatekeepers, small whites and skippers. Small garden birds flitted back and forward between the shrubs that grow along the trail: blue tits, long-tailed tits, robins and wrens. A goldfinch fluttered down to the ground to drink from a puddle in front of me. Far away on some rocks, I was able to pick out a group of curlews.
I headed along to one of the creeks that branches off the main estuary, where a single white egret was picking its way through the marsh. On the other side, unfazed by passing waterskiers, paddleboarders and kayakers, a flock of Mediterranean gulls perched on a floating barrier in the water. Heading along the trail further, I came to another creek. Gathered there was a large group of little egrets, with a single grey heron among them. Redshanks called squeakily as they darted out from cover and over to a small beach at the edge of the marsh. I found a bench by the path and sat to view the scene in front of me. With no one else around I took in the sounds of the wind rustling through the trees and sheep calling from the hillside. Even the people enjoying their water-based sports in the background added another layer of interest to the mosaic of sound.
From there I turned and retraced my steps back towards the car. A cloud had been creeping across the sky, and when I reached the point where I had half a mile left to walk, a heavy shower burst from it. The lowering sun continued to shine through the falling droplets, creating a rainbow that arched over the old railway bridge. Despite its intensity, the sound and sensation of the cool rain was delightfully soothing and made me so relaxed I dared to drive home along the trickier coast road with its steep bends and narrow lanes. It was a good decision, because on one section of quiet road, a stunning golden hare leapt out ahead of me. It took a few paces towards me on the opposite side of the carriageway, before hopping into a nearby field where it vanished into the tall grasses.
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