I had walked these fields as a child. First with sharp eyes straining to pick out smudges on the landscape, or to find names for things that moved. Then, with field glasses, I enjoyed the Ashy-crowned Sparrow-larks and the Paddyfield Pipits, and the Red-wattled Lapwing’s broken-wing charade to lead the inquisitive Marsh Harrier away from its nest.


And now, armed with video camera, and with wife for amanuensis, I stroll the fields exactly as I did as a child.
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