Sunday morning was very misty, with the slightest of breezes, so although it wasn't particularly warm, it offered the chance of a pleasant stroll down to the shore. As we wandered along a lane, the sun was making valiant, if forlorn, efforts to burn through the clouds, but only succeeding in delivering sufficient heat to lift some moisture from the fields. Those which had been ploughed, being darker, were absorbing more heat, and consequently appeared to be positively smoking.
By the wet pasture, halfway to the shore, we paused to watch a few Lapwings half-heartedly displaying, but it seemed that the grey skies had affected their mood.
Several other waders took to the skies though, and we soon identified these as Snipe. For the next ten minutes, we stood spellbound as four or five of them swooped and soared over our heads, whilst they sorted out some territorial or relationship issue. Alert readers will know that the collective noun for a group of Snipe is a 'Wesley'.
The audio clip below is a brief taste of the experience, with the throbbing of drumming displays and a plethora of flight calls.