Birds and Ting

So we made it through the winter and there are already burgeoning signs of spring about which make my heart leap about like a frisky lamb. How I love the Spring! It seems like such a gift after the long winter months and I have to stop myself bursting into Sound of Music inspired song when I catch sight of daffodils experimentally poking their heads through the soil. Under the leaves in the woods, hundreds of thousands of green shoots are peeping through the earth...Spring, Spring, glorious Spring! Having said that, it's bloody freezing today and there's a low mist that settled over everything whilst I was in the shower block, leaving me wondering if I'd spent over a day getting washed and dressed...the Twilight Zone. Because the mornings have been bright and crisp and deliciously sunny and I have been running (read: tottering) along the beach with B the dog and soaking up the rays.

Marina life always perks up when there is a hint of sun. All the live aboards come creeping tentatively out of their hideaways and there is much social yipping and yapping in the communal areas. Boats get sold and people move berths. The old rotting monstrosity next to us was moved whilst we were out one afternoon so we came back to an empty space next to our boat. (This doesn't sound like much but is incredibly unnerving - think coming home one day to find your neighbour's house completely vanished without a trace. The cat used it as a stepping stone on his travels from boat to boat and has since taken to staring into the water where it used to be with a very befuddled look on his face.) Now there is just a lovely empty patch of water which reflected the full moon back at me last night. I am hoping and praying we don't wake up one morning to find a horrible big plastic yoghurt pot yacht next door.

Some favourite things since the evenings have been getting longer:
1). The other night whilst R was up at football I was roused from my lounging in bed with a book by a godawful rapping on the side of the boat. Thinking it was a boat friend in distress, I leapt outside only to discover the resident Marina swans. The two cheeky blighters have become rather too accustomed to royal treatment round our gaff and have now taken to rapping their beaks on our (fragile 90 year old) boat to signal their desire for food/company. Both of which they get, of course, because I'm always full of delight and wonderment when I see them glide through the water. They're ENORMOUS and their feathers are as white as new fallen snow (a boring but truthful analogy).

2). Another night, R and I had just had a silly row about something pointless and I went out to sit on deck to clear my head. Living in 30ft of space means that when you argue one of you needs to step outside if some space is needed! Just then, a flock of gulls flew low over the water. In the thick fog that had descended (the fog horns were sounding their plaintive warning over the water all night), the birds looked completely ethereal and other-worldly. It was pure magic and made me stop in complete wonderment. I totally forgot that R and I had had cross words and went running in to tell him to come and see!

3). More birds...this time the starlings that swoop and dive every evening at dusk over the boats, gathering in flocks to perch precariously on the masts of the boats and chatter furiously before sweeping up en masse again. When they fly in unison across the sunset, I wish with all my might that I can be reincarnated as a bird. Please!

So, all bird things that have been making life magical. I was also going to mention the cormorant that dives underwater only to reappear 100metres away slick as oil with an eel thrashing about in its mouth. It comes right up to the boat and sometimes stands for ages up on the jetty opening up its massive wings to dry them, looking just like a flasher in a rain mac.

You may remember that when we first moved here, I was seriously concerned about leaving the woods behind and thinking I wouldn't get my fix of the natural world to ground and energise me. I needn't have worried. The Marina is a concrete jungle, yes, but one that has been completely appropriated by wildlife and for that I am supremely grateful. Turning into a regular ornitholigist, eh?!