Enter stage left

We visited Slimbridge last week for my husband to practice his photography skills.  Naturally,  at this time of year there are few birds to be seen from the hides,  as most have migrated to warmer climes. But there are still a few surprises to be had. 


Like an excitable audience, 
Crows keep up a companionable chatter,
A backdrop to the hushed reverence of the hide
Where whispered words barely disturb the silent view
Of bare-banked, recently dredged ponds.

A splay-toed, brown-bronze feathered glossy ibis
Struts slowly onto centre stage, jab-jabbing its downcurved bill
Through the water, searching the mud between the reeds,
Unconconcerned and unaware of its new role
As solo performer on a barren stage.

All eyes, scopes, binoculars, camera lenses follow close,
Capturing its every step and jab as it feels for its invisible prey, 
As it disappears back behind the thick reed curtain, without taking a bow.
The watchers disperse to catch the next hide's show,
And the crows' chattering chorus fills the empty auditorium. 


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