Tales from Wild Wales

Mulling it over……..

It was always going to be a bit of a punt, visiting the Isle of Mull at the end of February. I’m not going to tell a lie, the weather was pretty poor. While we were able to get outside every day, even if just for an hour in the evening, I can’t remember a single moment when the sun shone from a clear blue sky. Maybe a peek through thin cloud now and again on a good day…….

At that time of year we hoped to see eagles (golden and white-tailed) and…yes… we did. I surveyed eagles on Mull for the RSPB in 1981, before sea eagles became established. It became apparent that the island was just bursting with golden eagles. Where a territory had no suitable tree- or cliff nesting sites, they would nest more or less on the ground. I’m sure I didn’t find them all but it was thought that there were probably 25 pairs on the island.

There has been a school of thought that during the following decades, as white-tailed eagles successfully colonised the island, golden eagles might be driven out of their territories, especially along the coast. But on the evidence of our visit that did not seem to be the case. Most of our eagle sightings were of birds high in the sky a quarter of a mile away or more and nearly all of them were goldens. While we did see some white-tails they tended to be closer to ‘civilisation’ and thus easier to see. I know this is very poor evidence to support any kind of theory but it was interesting. I’d love to know the truth.

This white-tailed eagle drifted across to take a look at us on our first evening.

But the eagles were by no means the only highlight of the week. Our last morning was wonderful, with little wind and blue skies. From the Oban ferry I picked out what I first thought was a group of small cetaceans. Further observation suggested they were probably blue-fin tuna; I’ve searched online for ID pointers but most websites are far more concerned with catching them than identifying them! Wintering great northern divers were common and the chocolate shop at Craignure was wonderful! Perhaps my most enduring memory was of an otter at the narrow mouth of a sea-loch, Loch Spelve. Sitting onshore and looking across the water I noticed a disturbance mid-channel and it turned out to be an otter, heading inland from the ocean. Every so often it would appear for a few seconds, then dive, its conical tail being the last part of its body to be visible. It came onshore briefly and I managed to get some photographs of it before it headed off again.

Otter , probably sprainting, Loch Spelve.

I’m trying to get in touch with Dave Sexton, the RSPB’s “man on the ground” on Mull (now retired) for some thoughts on the relationships between golden and white-tailed eagles on the island. If I get a reply, I’ll update this.

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Should I? What if?

After rousing myself from the sofa a couple of evenings ago I noticed my phone on the kitchen table. It showed a very high red aurora alert. I cursed my laziness when I saw that it had been red all evening! I rushed outside and through a break in the cloud – a rare phenomenon in itself – I could see that that, yes, the sky looked rather “different”. I threw on some more layers , grabbed my camera and tripod and walked along the road. As explained previously we live on an exposed east-west ridge with (almost) unobstructed views to the north and south – ideal for seeing the Northern Lights. I soon came across a couple who were obviously aurora watching. They had come up from the nearest village and told me how amazing it had been and showed me pictures on their phones. I was downcast but set the tripod up anyway; and soon noticed that the camera was almost out of battery! So it was back to the house and more piddling about. Finally almost semi-organised, I came back out just in time to discover that cloud was, by then, almost 100%. A popular photographic maxim in the past was “1/125th second at f8 and be there”. Those settings are clearly not appropriate for photographing the aurora but the last requirement certainly is and I had failed it completely!

2024 had been an excellent year for seeing the aurora here in west Wales, as it was in many other parts of the country. Twice – in May and October – I saw spectacular displays with a further moderate display on my birthday in September. So I’d had some fairly recent experience of the pitfalls and problems involved in aurora photography. I wrote about these experiences in this post and this post . In the former I said I could write a book on aurora photography: I was exaggerating, of course, but I do find the subject absolutely fascinating., and not only in a technical, “how to” sense.

I explained in this post why it is that we see much less colour in the aurora when we look at it in “reality” than when see a photograph of it. To summarise, our eyesight is more sensitive to black-and-white than colour at low light levels. It is just the way our eyes work. So a digital sensor (or even film) will pick up more colour than our eyes do. The sensor is more “objective ” than our eyes are. Even that, I suspect, is a generalisation: The first time I ever saw the northern lights – in about 1984 – I was with a friend. My memories of that event were of a white-ish or pale green aurora, whereas he remembers a colourful one. There must be individual differences in the human ability to pick up colours at low light levels.

Another consideration might be how our camera (or phone) is set up to take and produce the photographs. When the photographer sees the result of their shutter press on their phone or the rear screen of the camera, they are looking at a jpeg file , already automatically processed by the device to give optimum results no matter what the subject is. Other photographers set their camera up to produce a raw file only, which needs to be manually processed using software (such as Lightroom) designed specifically for the task. When downloaded onto a computer the raw file usually looks like a dull version of reality, which needs individual treatment to get the best out of it. The camera also produces a jpeg which is what appears on the rear screen. And over- or under- exposure will affect the intensity of the colours in the digital file. Yet another variable!

Anyway…….. yesterday evening had been more or less cloudy but by 11 pm there were signs of a clearance coming up from the south. As I lay in bed , through the window I could see that the sky between broken cloud looked paler than normal. Could it have been a full moon effect in some way? No…. that was about a fortnight ago. I lay there considering the pro’s and con’s of leaving my warm and comfortable cocoon. Should I? What if? Steadily and calmly adding layer after layer of warm clothing and collecting my camera gear from several different locations (ever organised, me……) I was outside by about 11.20 pm. and straight away could see an aurora with the naked eye.

I had mounted a fixed focal length Panasonic 9mm f1.7 lens on the camera (18mm full-frame equivalent). While this is too wide for most situations I had purchased it partly with the Northern Lights in mind. Its main advantage is the f1.7 aperture. This allows much shorter shutter speeds to be used, and it gives an excellent depth of field, even open wide. I set the tripod up and pressed the shutter. I was elated on seeing the result. A deep crimson was visible on the rear screen which was barely visible to the naked eye, while the off-white/pale green colouration which had been visible became a deep lime green. Over the next fifty minutes the intensity of the aurora diminished steadily and although I waited for it to be re-invigorated it wasn’t to be.

One final philosophical consideration, though. If we can’t literally see something, does it really exist? My feeling is that it does.

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Definitely not the Boy Scouts…….

This photograph, originally in colour, was taken about thirty years ago, and appeared in my first book Wales – the Lie of the Land. The location is the Nanteos Estate near Aberystwyth, which contains some fine clumps of beech trees planted as landscape features. During an exploration there I met the farmer and he showed me this graffiti, which he claimed he had carved himself. In case you can’t decipher it, it reads HERR ADOLF HITLER 1933, and includes a Swastika. It is dated 1937, so probably 58 years prior to my taking the photograph. I don’t remember how old the farmer was but the graffiti was carved to last and it seems unlikely that a child, or even a teenager, could have been responsible for it.

Over the years I have pondered over the origin of the graffiti. History has never been my strong point but the most likely explanation, it seemed to me, was that prior to the second world war, a party of Germans had camped on the estate and left a memorial of their visit. And it looks like I may have been correct.

Last week I visited the Ceredigion Archive to enquire about the graffiti. Did they know anything about its origin? The archivist didn’t but a visitor overheard my question and told me that there were some reports in the Cambrian News of the day about a visit from Hitler Youth to Wales in July 1937. That was my lucky break. At the National Library I discovered in the July 30th edition of the paper that “twenty-one members of the Hitler Jugend (Nazi Youth Movement) camped at Aberdyfi on Thursday week“. The report continued :

…..”owing to the inclement weather (they) were allowed the use of the Pavilion. They had spent one week of their British tour as guests of the Rydal Boys School at Colwyn Bay and had marched through Snowdonia, Beddgelert, Harlech and Towyn, and on to Aberdyfi.

They were, apparently, warmly received wherever they went and enjoyed the wonderful scenery and the friendliness of the local people. “They continued their route marching on Saturday morning and before leaving were presented with a specially inscribed souvenir copy of the Aberdovey Guide by Mr Owen Jones, of the Publicity Bureau”, said the Cambrian News.

More searching on the internet led me to an opinion piece in NATION.CYMRU (15/9/25) which quoted the Cambrian News as saying that in July 1937 twenty-one members (plus three adults) of this movement [Hitler Youth] arrived in Aberystwyth on Saturday “and made the Scout Hall their headquarters“. It claimed that rather than marching, they were actually cycling, which seems far more likely and corroborates with other reports of their activities in the UK. The well-meaning hosts all over Wales must have believed that these charming, clean-living, visitors were the German equivalent of the Boy Scouts – but this was far from the truth. The oath taken by all 10 year olds on entering the Hitler Youth included the following statement:

“In the presence of this blood banner which represents the Fuhrer, I swear to devote all my energies and my strength to the saviour of our country, Adolf Hitler. I am willing and ready to give up my life for him, so help me God”

and “I promise to do my duty in love and loyalty to the Fuhrer and our Flag“.

It has been said that the purpose of the Hitler Youth was to indoctrinate those children into Fascist ideology before they had a chance to learn anything else.

These cycling trips were not unusual in the mid- to late- 1930’s and they made links and stayed with Boy Scout groups and ‘public’ (actually private) schools. The Nazis were very impressed by the British ‘public’ school system, and cultivated links with Robert Baden-Powell, founder of the Boy Scouts, who is known to have had Nazi sympathies. But the British secret service became suspicious of them and for good reason: behind the healthy outdoor living activities of these young people lay a more sinister purpose. They were instructed to make notes on and memorise the location of towns and villages and landmarks such as church towers.

“Make a note of the names of places, rivers, seas and mountains. Perhaps you may be able to utilise these sometime for the benefit of the Fatherland”, they were told.

So did the Hitler Youth who arrived in Aberystwyth in late July 1937 actually camp on the Nanteos Estate? It would certainly have been suitable, should the owner and occupier – a certain Margaret Powell – have been naive enough to have allowed it.

With seasons greetings

A bit late this year, I know……. but I’ve been suffering from a particularly unpleasant winter lurgy for the last few days, and am only beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I hope!

This photo was taken at Cemlyn Bay, Anglesey, during my annual visit to the tern colony there this year. I’ve always had difficulties separating arctic and common terns, and I’m going to have to come clean…. I don’t know if these are one or the other! What appear to be long red bills suggest common, but the lack of black tips suggest arctics. If anyone can put out of my identification misery, please let me know!

So, many thanks for reading my posts and I hope you have enjoyed them. May there be blue skies ahead!

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Campare and contrast.

_{Visitor display at the Urdaibai Visitor Centre}

There’s no doubt that a highlight of my visit to the Basque country was San Juan Gaztelugatxe on the coast near Bermeo (see previous post) . But there were others too. We planned to do a “compare and contrast” exercise between the Dyfi Biosphere and the Urdaibai Biosphere as the areas are superficially similar. Both sit within regions using a minority language. Each is based on a single river catchment and each has a core area where wildlife is strictly protected. For Machynlleth – a town of about 2200 people in a very rural area of mid-Wales – think Gernika, with its population of 16,000, in the still rural but more highly developed Basque country. For the downmarket holiday resort of Borth in Ceredigion, think Bermeo, once the centre of a thriving whaling industry, now thankfully part of the town’s history. For the Dyfi estuary think the estuary of the Oka. The obviously very well funded Urdaibai is in startling contrast to the Dyfi, with two part-time members of staff, surviving on a shoestring and with its future very much in doubt. So there are similarities but the small scale and perceived lack of importance of one contrasts strongly with the other.

Each has a visitor centre in its core area and the fate of the two couldn’t be more different. In Wales, Ynyslas Visitor Centre near the mouth of the Dyfi was closed last year by its operator, Natural Resources Wales, in very controversial circumstances. It had been open in several different guises for at least 46 years and been steadily developed over that time; I worked there in 1978 when I first moved to Wales. Meanwhile the “Bird Centre” in the Urdaibai was opened in 2012, and is a startlingly modern (high-tech even) facility with large picture windows overlooking lagoons created in the wetlands. It is equipped with telescopes so that staff and visitors can study the estuary’s wildlife.

And what is more, you can stay there! The bedrooms are modern and comfortable and at breakfast time you emerge into the “guest lounge” reserved for overnight visitors. It is on the top floor and has a wonderful view of the estuary. Telescopes are available and every table has a pair of binoculars for each guest. What a lovely touch! A delicious buffet meal is laid out and you just help yourself. You can eat your fill over a leisurely breakfast and watch birds at the same time. The highlight for me was a black-winged kite, (a distant view only, admittedly), seen as I tucked in to toast, croissants, fruit and coffee. Talk about a breakfast with a view!

Edit: The top photograph lists Biospheres throughout the world but for some reason omits the Dyfi!

For more information about the Urdaibai Biosphere and the Bird Centre see the following –

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Urdaibai_estuary

https://www.birdcenter.org/en

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As seen in the Game of Thrones (apparently)….

My partner Jane works at the Dyfi Biosphere reserve in Machynlleth, which has links to the Urdaibai Biosphere near Bilbao, in the Basque Country. So we decided to have a short holiday there in September. We’re both keen on train travel and it was a chance for me to use the Interrail pass which I had bought last December and which expired this month. So we took the sleeper train to Bayonne in France and then onward to Hendaye on the Spanish border. From there we transferred onto the narrow gauge (but electrified) line towards Bilbao. I can’t say I would recommend the latter. It took three hours and stopped at fifty-one stations! At each one the doors slid open and clanged shut, with numerous accompanying beeps. Think a three hour journey on the Tube and you’ve just about got it. But arrive we did, eventually. There is a very good network of local trains and buses in the Bilbao area so we used public transport exclusively while were there.

I knew little about the Basque Country before leaving and even less about the language. It’s fair to say that the distribution of letters in a Basque edition of Scrabble would be very different to the UK version……. X, Z and K would only score one point each, for starters! It is hilly and heavily wooded country with a dramatic coastline. One of the most well-known features of the latter is the islet of Gaztelugatxe – complete with a chapel dedicated to San Juan on its summit – linked to the mainland by a stone bridge. It is considered to be a pilgrimage site, and has always been a popular destination for visitors. It was used as a location in The Game of Thrones, and now, at busy periods, you need to book a ticket online before visiting. And there can still be queues. I knew nothing about this, of course, and was disappointed to discover that no passes were available for the day that I could visit. It took me a while to discover that in late September there were no longer any restrictions. Lucky me!

My visit started with a bus journey from Bermeo (the nearest town) well before dawn on a showery morning. It was still dark when the bus left me at the side of the road above the island. By the time I had reached the coastline it was light but no sun lit the island. A passing break in the clouds allowed a few sunbeams to hit the chapel but the camera was still in my bag. I then discovered that I had left my polariser in the hotel. This was becoming a habit!

However, when I got to the bridge and looked along the coastline things started took a turn for the better. Talk about moody! Stormy skies, rock stacks, skerries with white water breaking over them, and rain showers passing across the landscape. I decided that long exposures using a neutral density filter would make the best of the conditions. Without a tripod I had to brace the camera carefully against a stone wall and rely on the image stabilisation for which Olympus kit is renowned. I took a series of exposures in the region of 1.6 to 4 seconds long and hoped for the best. Short breaks in the cloud even allowed the sun to illuminate the most prominent stack, leaving everything else in shadow. All my extremities were crossed at this moment! And the islet with its chapel was illuminated for short periods of time too.

I spent hours processing some of these photographs on my return home to the UK. Most of the long exposures needed some serious sharpening, but taking into consideration how long they actually were, that’s not surprising. Without the latest technology they would have been virtually impossible (without a tripod), say, ten years ago. Thank goodness I had arrived early because by mid-morning the area was thronged by visitors. And thank goodness it hadn’t been a blue sky day!

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My fifteen minutes of fame.

I wonder if most landscape/outdoor photographers are as solitary as this one? I suspect not. But if I’m not out in the landscape with my camera or binoculars I can usually be found sitting at my desk watching cat videos on Youtube or scrolling though Facebook er….. sorry……. er ……..processing images and running my business. Rarely does the phone ring or an exciting proposal arrive by email. I’m not naturally gregarious and promoting my work comes pretty low down on my list of priorities these days. But an unexpected opportunity came my way last weekend.

I was attending “The Eye” photography festival at Aberystwyth Arts Centre.. It is devoted to documentary photography and photo-journalism and its organiser – Glenn Edwards – has been able to bring some of the biggest names in the genre to little old Aberystwyth over the years. While these are not my specialities I do appreciate good photography of all types and I have always found it a stimulating event.

During the first lecture I noticed that my friend Will Troughton was in the audience. He is the photography curator at the National Library of Wales in Aberystwyth and has always been a supporter of my work. So I went over to have a chat, during which he told me that one of the afternoon events was a visit to the Library. He had selected some prints from its huge Photography Collection (almost a million prints altogether) for attendees to browse through. As well as work from some of the greats of 19th Century photography, he had also chosen some more contemporary work including some of mine. So alongside Carleton Watkins prints of the nineteenth-century American West, and a set of prints of Native Americans from the same era by Edward Sherriff Curtis, was a selection from my exhibition Bird/land (click here to visit my website).

As it happened I had a one-off copy of the Bird/land book with me, so I offered to come down to the Library with him. While I hadn’t prepared a presentation I was introduced as the photographer and it gave me the opportunity to talk about Bird/land with some knowledgeable and interested photographers. I also had a copy of another one-off book with me – the result of a very long term project variously known as ‘my black-and-white project’, the ‘Fay Godwin project ‘, or, most definitively, ‘A Sideways Glance‘ (click here to visit my website.) The two books are so different in style and subject matter that it must seem difficult to believe that the same photographer could have produced both. But I am living evidence that he did! Both books provoked a great deal of interest and some good feedback.

This was a real boost to my confidence. Back at the Arts Centre I collared Glenn Edwards and showed them to him as well. The documentary style of A Sideways Glance was more to his liking, I suspect, and he looked through it very carefully, finally giving me very positive feedback. A few years ago I had hoped that he might give me a slot at “The Eye” but I think his intention has always been to bring photographic excellence to Aberystwyth, rather than showcase local photographers.

The following morning one of the other photographers asked me if it was possible to buy a copy of Bird/land, and I had to explain it was a one-off, and therefore quite expensive. But we agreed on a price and I’m just about to send it off to him down in Pembrokeshire.

As for me, until the weather improves, it’s back to the cat videos!

If you are interested in buying a copy of Bird/land, please let me know. It is in hardback, 28 x 28 cm in size with 20 double-page spreads, on very thick paper in “lay-flat” style. It contains a total of 117 images mostly in the form tryptichs. The price would be £95 including postage.

NB. Sadly it looks like this will have been the final “Eye” in Aberystwyth due to declining attendances. It was good while it lasted!

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Some reflections on my Pembrokeshire trip.

After a session trying to photograph St Davids Cathedral (click to read), I decided to go for a coffee. It was while I drank it that I had a brain wave. Why not take a wildlife cruise out from St Justinians later in the day? Conditions seemed perfect. So I compared the options available from the various boat operators in St Davids and chose a ninety minute “evening shearwater cruise” leaving at 6.30 p.m. I was so sure I would have some great photographic opportunities from the boat that I slouched around the St. Davids area for most of the day. I suppose some measure of complacency had crept in.

Come 6.30pm I boarded the boat. It was a RIB with fixed seats and once seated the punters were expected to stay in place. The boatman told us that “every seat is a front row seat”. The company owner was on board with four of her friends; needless to say they had the best seats – at the front. We were then informed that – actually – there were very few shearwaters around at the moment. Once underway we did a clockwise half-circuit of Ramsey Island: this meant that those in the seats on the starboard (right-hand) side of the boat (and the front…..) had uninterrupted views of the few seals in the caves and coves. I was on the port side – and it was very frustrating. Then we headed a couple of miles offshore to search for shearwaters, and there were a few, but all very distant. It also occurred to me that there were hardly ANY seabirds around at all. I should have known better than to book a wildlife cruise at the end of August when most of the seabirds would have left the cliffs several weeks earlier.

But the boat company should have warned potential passengers that this would be the case. Falcon Boats was the culprit in this instance but I’m sure they all do it. I’ll certainly be far more careful before going out on a tourist boat again.

I recounted in this post how I managed to get some good photographs of an osprey from the Curlew hide at the Teifi Marshes on the journey down. There were other photographers in the hide and a few visitors popped in and out. The “locals” engaged in conversations with each other over the heads of other people in the hide. On the way back I called in there again and inside was another bunch of local photographers in there. They talked very loudly to each other about some incident in a car park that one of them had experienced. It was as if they owned the place. How must other people in the hide have felt about this? It was so rude. I left suddenly and shut the door after me. I wished I had slammed it harder to make my feelings known.

The problem with the Teifi Marshes is that access to the hides is via a multi-use path from Cardigan to Cilgerran that is frequently used by non-birders, including families with small children and dogs. In fact, judging by some of the vehicles I have seen in the car park, the path is also popular with commercial dog-walking and child-minding operators. Some of these people have no idea of how to behave in a hide. Several years ago one of the latter, complete with toddlers and a pram, crammed themselves into one of the hides and began chattering away to her friend. I asked her to keep the noise down and was met with a mouthful of the foulest language you can imagine.

Hide etiquette can be tricky. I’ve often enjoyed conversations with fellow birders in hides and the exchange of information there can be useful. I’m happy to help less experienced visitors with bird ID as well. Sometimes a position in the front row of a hide is a very valuable asset and the photographer is reluctant to give it away. I’ve done it myself – at the Snettisham wader roost, for example. My thinking went something like this: “I got up really early, walked two miles to get here, waited for my turn and I’m damn well going to take my time.” But there is no excuse for the rudeness I experienced that day in Cardigan.

Well, I know this post has been a bit of a moan. We all like a moan sometimes but sometimes there are good grounds for it. Just don’t get me started on the dog-owners who don’t control their pets while out in the landscape!

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Watching me, watching you.

Following a successful and worthwhile visit to the Teifi Marshes, culminating in a stunning photograph of an osprey carrying a fish (click to view) , I continued towards St Davids. One of my very best postcard customers has a shop there and I had been asked to do some more designs of the area. I have to consciously think “postcard” when this is the objective. I suppose I expect other people to have the same visual sense as I do. It was a sunny day with little cloud and a rather dusty atmosphere – not surprising considering all the dry weather we have had this summer. Long distance visibility was not great.

And I couldn’t find my polarising filter. I had “mislaid” (not quite officially “lost”) my first choice polariser and could mentally picture my spare sitting on the desk at home. I don’t use one for bird photography but find it indispensible for landscapes. Without it, what would I actually do on this trip? I decided to concentrate on the area around the Cathedral and Bishops Palace, both situated in the shallow valley of the River Alun, west of the main built up area. I was on the edge of the woodland overlooking the Bishops Palace when I happened to glance upwards – and there was a fox calmly looking down on me as I went about my business.

*_{First sight of the fox (ISO 1600, 1/13 sec at f4)}*

The only lens I had with me (a 12-100 mm zoom) was long enough. I had time to adjust various settings for optimal quality, but I was grateful for the image stabilisation built in to the lens. By this time light levels were rather low.

Eventually the fox carried on its way. I quietly followed it on a parallel path and then, reaching a track, went upwards. The fox re-appeared from the vegetation and looked at me silently again. I took another burst of images, including the main photo above. I’m going to have to admit here that there was some extraneous and out-of-focus vegetation around the animal but I found it was easy enough to remove it using Lightroom’s AI Removal tool. (Almost too easy, really: where will it end?) None of these images would win the Wildlife Photographer of the Year for that reason , but I’m contented enough. What do you think?

*_{Would this make a good postcard, I wonder?}*

I had a fitful night’s sleep, waking about 4 a.m. and frantically ransacking the van again for my polariser, but to no avail. Come the morning I looked through my bag again and there was the polariser. It was just sitting there in one of the pockets. How could I have missed it?? So it was over to the Cathedral with a spring in my step. As well as being a crucial photographic tool for me I think it must also be a comfort blanket. The Cathedral has surely been photographed a million times and it was difficult to envisage anything different, especially with a postcard in mind. I spent a while around the Cathedral grounds trying to find something new but I’m not sure I succeeded.

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Oh the irony of it.

I’m a fairly regular visitor to the Teifi Marshes, at Cardigan, which has a selection of easily accessible hides allowing excellent views of interesting birds at close quarters. It must be one of the best places in the UK to photograph water rails, for example (see this post), and kingfisher. It is about fifty miles away from home, and I tend to visit the reserve if I am on my way down to Pembrokeshire for some reason. What I usually do is leave home the previous evening and sleep in the van, meaning that an early morning visit is easy. For a number of years I had a favourite park-up, about a mile away, in a very wide and deep farm gateway, where I had never seen any farming activity.

One such visit was late last winter. It was a cold and frosty night and I woke early to find the van enveloped in thick valley fog. I opened the rear doors to see a group of white ponies standing the other side of the gate in a white-out. It really was magical. I put the kettle on and began making my breakfast. Then I heard a vehicle arrive next to mine and its door opening. “Oi…. you can’t park there ….it’s private property!” came a voice (or words to that effect) . It was the farmer, coming to feed his animals. I hurriedly threw on some clothes and apologised profusely, switching off the kettle and moving into the driver’s seat. Turning the ignition key there was a click, and then silence. The battery had died overnight. I was so embarrassed! To his credit the farmer could see that I was harmless and was in an impossible situation. He easily carried his bales of hay the few extra yards from his trailer to the gate, and was away. I called the breakdown service and settled down to a long wait and a leisurely breakfast. I wouldn’t be visiting the Marshes that morning…….

Since then I’ve found another park-up not far away and have spent a few nights there. One such was last week, and I arrived at the reserve about 7 o’clock on Thursday morning; the tide was high, the river full and the hide overlooking the (tidal) creek seemed to be a good place to start. I spent some time there and saw a very good selection of species – kingfisher, water rail, greenshank, and curlew among others. The problem for the photographer is that both the Creek and Kingfisher hides face east; the light can be very difficult at both until at least mid-morning. Nevertheless I did manage some close-up images of a kingfisher from the latter; I also watched a water rail there fly to the island, and then swim back to the main reedbed a few minutes later! Returning to the Creek hide I photographed a small wader creeping around at the water’s edge. Although the photograph is nothing to write home about it was good enough to identify the bird as a green sandpiper.

It had been reported earlier in the week that three different ospreys had been seen fishing on the Teifi river alongside the marshes. They had been identified by the colour rings fitted to their legs as nestlings. One was unringed, another had been ringed in Germany and the third in Scotland. I returned to the Curlew hide on the river-bank in the hope that one would turn up. And turn up it did! Another photographer was droning away about all the birds he’d seen and where, when I noticed the gulls on the river had all flown and scattered. There was obviously “something about”. And sure enough, an osprey appeared over the river and, at its first attempt, proceeded to catch a fish right in front of the hide! During the minute it took the bird to gain enough height to fly away I was able to get a sequence of images of it with its prey. They weren’t all sharp but by judicious use of the denoise, selection and sharpening tools in Lightroom (and even a tweak in Topaz Photo AI) I was able to get several I am very pleased with.

I’m not sure if ironic is the correct word to use here but I chose the main photograph from the sequence because of the fish’s position. I doubt if the poor creature appreciated how this single split second (one four-thousandth to be exact) during its final moments of life in the osprey’s talons gave this meticulous photographer the most creative satisfaction.

NB. I’ve just cropped the main photo to enlarge the bird.

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