I have calmed down a little now, but yesterday evening I was still buzzing with the excitement of some of the things we had seen at Swale Nature Reserve yesterday. As we made out way down to Harty Ferry, we stopped at Capel Fleet, a raptor viewing point, and saw a couple of marsh harriers sky dancing - swooping and diving together as part of their spring mating shenanigans. Impossible for me to photograph, though I did pick up a feather, murdered by one of the cats when I got home.
We took the same route as we did when we visited Sheppey last autumn, passing through the hedges of wild plums, now in blossom, that yielded such delicious jam. It was in this path that I looked down, trying to keep my hat on in the breeze and saw - for the first time ever - a slow worm basking in the sun. All those years of wanting to see a slow worm since coming across it in a Ladybird book (the British Wild Animals one perhaps?) and then to come across such an obliging little beastie, tempted to touch her smooth shiny skin but making do with a snapshot instead. This one was about a foot long and a little bit thicker in girth than a pencil. I wanted to bring her home to eat the slugs on the allotment, but ethics prevailed and after a little while I watched her slither off into the grass.
|Slow Worm, Isle of Harty|
|Tiles, William De Morgan, 1870s|
|See beet, tomato and anchovy pasta|