On a beautiful, if not particularly warm afternoon, well filled with tea and with some gloopy cheap isotonic drink to take with me, I set out on what I knew was going to be a longish run, through a cemetery carpeted with purple and white crocuses, with a few small daffodils now coming out. On the cycle path many blue tits were enjoying the weather.
Out by British Gypsum, noticed a few Fieldfares going over - in flight they always looks like they have black wings and white bodies.
I sort of followed the roads around, hoping perhaps to see a hardy early butterfly, until ventually I was going the other way down the cycling path past London Road lake. And here, among the trees at the bottom end was a first sighting for me on this lake of a cormorant!
The fishermen would love that I thought. To them Cormorants are Harold Shipman and the Yorkshire Ripper rolled into a feathery package.
As I watched he dived, and I stopped running to see where he would come up. A few seconds later, he reappeared with a nice Roach in his beak, glittering silver in the lowering light. And then, presumably having scared all the fish off, he noisily, splashily took off, and turned round to head for the river. I watched him till he was a long way off, but eventually I caught up with him again, down by the Castle.
Mr Cormorant, he doesnt do any discarding...
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