this is how it feels...

from my Caerlaverock sketchbook Out on my wanderings today around Caerlaverock, I was much more aware of the big sky down here than I have been so far. That is a surprise to me since “sky” is what I thought this project was really about after all. Birds are important, but I thought that was so much to do with their necessary relationship with that big sky. Of course it’s all to do with the geese effect and in particular barnacle geese. After all I am here at this time of year especially, to witness at least a tiny part of their overwintering. They are so present, so distinctive in their gorgeous monochrome plumage and their yelping cries. When they are flying, I must look up. It is mesmerising. I am beguiled by their return each year from breeding grounds in Svalbard. 2716 kilometres they fly. I love that continuity and constancy. And that’s the bit that resonates so much. I have returned to this place too, though I’ve not travelled so far in distance. But I was o...

It was raining all night. I know because it was lashing on the skylight windows of my bedroom. Cosy and comforted, it reminds me always of childhood. It’s the same sweet recall when I open the window wide to watch for the geese and feel the chilly blast of the wind on my face while I am cocooned in warmth. It’s only a short walk from the cottage to the WWT site and there’s not much traffic in the lane. I am accompanied all along with birds rustling and calling in the hedgerows and the near constant background “Goose Music”. (Aldo Leopold’s essay from Round River). Then I see them. Black, silvery grey and white wonders beside me in the field. There are puddles all along the roadside and I take a diversion at every one. Why would I risk getting my feet wet? I wander along the main avenue of the site. Wind is picking up. Rain can’t be far away again. The feeling is joyous but still I make a zig zag route around so many large muddy puddles. But I have wellies on here, ...

A rough night’s sleep but happily I was awake before the sun came up. It’s important to rise before the dawn... As the sky changes colour emanating from the left of my direct viewpoint, the movement begins. A flurry of crows land on a nearby tree, each one turned to where the sun is about to appear. It seems like it must be inherent in their bird consciousness - the wonder and expectations of new day beginnings, for all time. Then I start to see the dotted trail lines away in the distance, appearing apparently from the inner sky, threading through the brightening light. I watch and open the window wide to listen. The geese calls increase, crying the dawn. Mesmerised, I watch their fabulous mark making in the pink light. Then the lines move in tangles right over where I am leaning over the windowsill. I can see the bellies of them - gorgeous shapes as necks stretch out and the constant beating of wings. The air shifts and the day has begun.