Bird watching

BIRD WATCHING

We huddle in the bird hide

While the rain batters the wooden roof

And pockmarks the once-smooth surface

Of the pool we did not come to watch.

But as we perch on the benches

Waiting for the rain to release us

Our eyes stray out through the open slits.

A pair of swans stand out

Glowing white against the greyness

Of sky and water as they twist

Their snaky necks along their backs

To preen on the small island,

Standing bandily on webbed feet.

But when they slide back to the pool

They are undisputed monarchs,

Regal as they glide together,

Their double glory brokenly reflected.

A white-nosed coot scoots hooting past

And scrambles splashily onto the bank.

The scene has turned to comedy.

A cluster of female mallards fish for food,

Dunking their brown heads,

Hitching up their skirts,

Displaying orange legs inelegantly.

A fluffy baby coot dives for food,

Disappearing from view then coming up

Several feet away, indifferent to the rain

Which still pounds down.

Now we too have forgotten it,

Find ourselves caught up,

Study the information poster,

Scan the water,

Bird watch.

There’s a moorhen, more coots.

A flotilla of mallards sail by.

The group breaks up, squabbles

Like gossiping women. A coot

Honks at them; their mocking laugh

Rings back across the water

But he dives, oblivious.

We watch, oblivious too

That the rain has finally stopped.

Written after a visit to Ryton Pools 7 August 2009