Birds I couldn’t see

There were at least three different birds in the hedge beside Long Pasture on Sunday. I am fairly certain about the number, much less certain about the birds. One had a short, repeated call like a squeaky wheel. Another kept starting an elaborate sentence and abandoning it halfway through.

I stood beside the gate for nearly fifteen minutes, camera ready, and saw a leaf move twice. Neither occasion produced a bird. The hedge was dense with new growth and the light behind it was bright enough to turn every gap white. I could have waited there all afternoon and still come away with a collection of dark twigs.

Instead I walked a little further up the hill. From there the fields made broad, untidy bands: pale green in front, a much bluer green near the wood, and something almost yellow beyond the wall. A cloud moved across them slowly enough that I could watch each field change. I made one picture in full light and another when the nearest field was in shade. The first is the one in the archive.

I used to think a walk needed a subject before I set off. A particular tree, a view, something worth carrying a camera for. More often now I begin with whatever is making a noise and end up looking in the other direction. It seems a decent enough arrangement.

On the way back the squeaky call had moved to the other side of the path. Still no bird. I have described it in the notebook with a very unhelpful little drawing of a sound. If I ever work out what it was, I will pencil the name underneath.