The Good Old Days
Back in the mid-1970s one of my regular haunts was Pagham Harbour (above), courtesy of a train and bus ride. I tried to visit once a month, sometimes twice, and can safely say that it became a special place for me. Over the years the visits became infrequent, and until today had last made the trip in 2010. Another was therefore long overdue. It was quite an emotional day. I arrived at 05.30hrs accompanied by a light that was ethereal. A clear azure sky turned water and wet mud into liquid mercury and silver, the stillness amplifying the cries of the nesting gulls and terns across the harbour. Throughout the visit I was serenaded by an urgent murmur coming from the colony, on two occasions being startled by the birds as they were spooked, a sudden roar, not unlike a jet aircraft, which died as quickly as it began. Mediterranean Gulls, Sandwich, Common and Little Terns patrolled the water between harbour and sea, sharing the skies with the ubiquitous Black-headed. A Peregrine hunted out ...