GIVEN the forecast for bad weather and gale force winds on Thursday, who in their right mind would choose to stand on the exposed salt marshland of the Dee Estuary looking for birds?
This I asked myself as I tried to stand upright in the gusting wind which threatened to turf me off the embankment and into the churning brown waters of the Dee itself.
In the comparative shelter of a clump of hawthorn bushes, I managed to hold my binoculars steady enough to look for birds.
And what a reward I got!
My target bird had been Twite, a small member of the finch family with a slightly longer, cleft tail than many of its relatives, a flighty bird which is easier to see as it flits across the tufts of marsh grass but melts into its background once it has landed.
But my luck was in, and movement out of the corner of my eye attracted my attention to a low wire fence.
An obliging male bird sat on the wire long enough to be identified before it hopped down onto the ground to join a mixed flock of Twite and Skylarks shifting across the sodden marshland.
But the real reward was up in the sky as wave after wave of waders passed overhead, literally in their thousands, all battling into the headwind to reach the next spot of exposed mud.
Unusual to be looking upwards at waders at such close quarters, these mixed groups flew low, their wings beating swiftly as they tried to make progress against the blasting gale.
Black-tailed Godwit led the packs, their long slim bills making them easy to identify; Redshank, their eponymous red legs trailing behind, brought up the rear; and keeping to the middle of the flocks, smaller Dunlin tried to slipstream the bigger birds.
Stunning to see so many waders on the move, making changing shapes in the air like shoals of fish as they were buffeted in all directions by the wind.
It was an exhilarating moment that took my breath away, quite literally.
