Reading yesterday of the Squacco Heron at Morpeth, it was first-light trip (yes, up at 05:45, cleansed, dog walked and on the metal bridge for 06:50). It was dark, but time was of the essence.
After a few jaunts back and forth on the bank to the rear of Morrisons Filling Station, I was joined by some first class company, in every sense of the term, in the form of Messrs McLevy and Dack jnr.
The next half hour or so was spent to the town side of the 'elbow' where the river runs parallel with Whorral Bank. And nothing but improving daylight to report.
The Dynamic Duo had some 'sinister' business to transact, some package to exchange from car to car in a Miami Vice-like manner, and so I proceeded back towards the Bank and then towards the des-res block that was the Old Mill, I believe. By this time, Crockett (AMcL) was back with me and Tubbs had left for work.
A Grey Heron was on sentry duty in the middle of the river and as we approached, it took off low and northwards.
And then, dear Reader, like an angelic vision, flying low and south, a small, bright white, Little Egret-like bird that kindly landed not too far down stream. Possibly spooked/flushed by its bigger, darker cousin, or by The Good Lord who determined that my endeavours merited reward, the wee birdie started to assess the shoreline as it wandered townward. And then another short flight and more meandering in and out of the bankside foliage.
Joined by another birder (Stephen Trotter?), we both made attempts to do the bird justice, and me safe in the knowledge that my scope was a mile away at the end of Goose Hill/Bennett's Walk.
'Subscribers' to my e-ramblings will know of my dubious photographic prowess, so with that in mind, I am quite proud(ish) of the following: