BURTON MERE WETLANDS


Turn one way and scores of Little Egrets

are roosting with complaining Carrion Crows

in aged ash trees. Turn half a circle and,

beyond the marsh, in Wales, Tata Steel thrums.

(Ironically, most of this is a built

environment. Canalising the Dee

silted the estuary, created marshland.

The RSPB has re-engineered

the wetlands, constructing pathways and hides

so we can see and preserve). Earlier

there was excitement – a solitary Jack Snipe

was twitched and a Glossy Ibis south west winds

had blown from southern Spain. Distantly,

wild fowlers were shooting at the marsh’s edge.

 

As we leave, an autumn sun is setting

behind the Halkyn mountain plateau

and skein after skein of Canada Geese

descend and descend on the gloaming meres,

raucously clacking, and we watch – enthralled

by this potentially pestilential breed –

until the light has gone.

 

 

 

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