A 75-mile drive to the Wirral for a lunch-date with Stense. The weather was so glorious, we decided to leave lunch and Christmas presents till later, and took a walk along the edge of Burton Marshes to Burton Point, then on down the cycleway as far as the Welsh border.
Pink footed geese, several stonechats, a curlew, and the usual suspects.
At the Point, I spotted a strange bird perched on one of the fence-posts high above us. It was about the size of a thrush, but was shaped more like a robin. Then it turned towards us and I realised it was a robin. With it silhouetted against the sky, with nothing but the fence-post to gauge it by, I had completely misjudged its size.
(Well, at least I recognised its shape.)
“…wonderfully droll, witty and entertaining… At their best Carter’s moorland walks and his meandering intellectual talk are part of a single, deeply coherent enterprise: a restless inquiry into the meaning of place and the nature of self.”
—Mark Cocker, author and naturalist
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