Out for my exercise walk, which seems to get longer each time; I decided to head for a small stone bridge where often a Heron can be seen on the banks of the river down below. The closer I got the slower I moved and started to crouch lower and lower, not wanting to scare the Heron off. What a passer by in a car thought I dreaded to think, but I didn’t care; I was on a mission.
Slowly I raised my head over the stone wall higher and higher… Hmm, nothing, not a sign of any beast let alone a Heron; all my stealth movements for nought. I was by now close to Kinkell Bridge, another much larger stone bridge and decided to push on to see what I could see.
I spotted a couple of swans, took a couple of shots and picked up the pace seeing some more just near the bridge. By the time I’ made it to the bridge they’d drifted further down the river, I was too late the moment missed. I turned about and headed back the way I’d come heading for home just a little disappointed.
I reached a gate and suddenly noted a path to the riverside that fishermen take, I wriggled through the swing gate and headed over to the river bank crunching on fallen tree branches as I went. I crept closer and closer to the edge of the steep crumbling bank and crouched precariously down as low as I could, not wanting to slip into the river. This was it, the swans were drifting back and forth in this spot almost as if just for me. It was a magical moment in the warm afternoon sun that went on for quite a while and it was only protesting knees at crouching for so long that insisted I stand up and call it a day.
What a magical few moments I had in the company of these swans and I almost started skipping on my way home but for the thought of seeing that motorist again. I think my walks are going to get longer.