Velvet, Orange and Glittery..a Liquid Glistening Eulogy

It's 8am on the South Coast of England at the beginning of February. The temperature gauge in my van reads 4 degrees celsius.  A purposeful south easterly wind whistles across the Solent and bites through my multi thermal layered body as I step onto Pennington car park. People have arrived before me. I'm not the only mad person here then, clearly.
I hadn't slept much any way. The thought of a day out walking in nature always incites a little insomnia in expectation.

 The sun had already made it's statement of intent, well before it's ascendancy into the sky over the Isle of Wight.

 The flooded fields by the old tip were full of ducks and geese and waders feeding and conversing to each other in the golden gloom.

 I love the way the clouds combine with the sun to create a unique ever changing canvas.

 Then a favourite, the reeds, sprinkled their magical gold dust in the wind. I was suckered in again....

 I walked to the concrete jetty by the shore. The thought of my nemesis, the Red Necked Grebe, taunted me. It has overwintered here since the end of last year but on my visits it has proved to fly in the face of my arrogant expectation of it's presence.
I consoled myself in a familiar but warming view to the west. A double vista of Hurst Castle and lighthouse with The Needles chalk peninsular jabbing into the western approaches to the Channel with it's lighthouse the last bastion of land.

The water was rising. Brent Geese trickled their way west, hugging the shore, in search of the last exposed ground before high tide

 Hugging the shore in deference to the Brent, I made Oxey Marsh on the inland side of the reserve my halfway house and turning point along the sea wall.
Spotted Redshank, winter visitors and rather special looking waders, dropped in to Oxey. This is a favoured place for them. 

 The Lymington to Yarmouth Whitelink ferry plodded it's route to the island as I turned 180 degrees and retraced my steps.

Many duck peppered the edge of the marsh. A male Teal slumbered in the sunshine .

The Red Breasted Mergansers I have seen here before were still kicking back and enjoying the shelter the marsh provides protected by the high sea wall path. Sensible creatures!

Their quiffs flickered around their heads in the breeze and the males iridescence shimmered from blue to black to green and to purple.  

Back at the car park path off the sea wall. Butts lagoon is edged by reedbeds. One of the best places to witness Bearded Tits flitting amongst the slender golden forest.

I had heard their distinctive call. A possible sign of them about to take flight.
I was right. A male and a female lifted off, pinging their electronic songs and landed right in front of me. 

Normally in strong winds they would hunker down out of sight.

Not today however.

Photography was difficult. The reed heads swung violently, my long camera lens caught the wind easily too, so a quality in focus shot was problematic.
The female clung on without a second thought.  

So did the moustached male

To get a better view, I slid down to the lower path beneath the sea wall, eye level with the birds, head height with the reed stems. They weren't especially concerned at my presence and carried on munching at the seeds.

The Beardies had exhausted me. I was physically and emotionally spent - plus my arm was aching keeping the lens aloft - so I ventured back to the car park to have lunch. I had planned a half day here but good intentions and wishful thinking don't always work out how you planned, so I walked back to the jetty.

Brent Geese were everywhere.

The massed ranks of the Golden Plover were spooked by some invisible raptor.

I reached the jetty. A dark brown dot could be seen bobbing on the surface,so I zoomed in...

A nondescript bird on the sea to some, but to me... wonderful!
The Red Necked Grebe had graced me with it's presence at last, the little blighter. I won't go on complaining of the too distant views I managed to obtain however...! 

Back at the car park a Kestrel appeared looking for an easy meal in the fields.

The Brent kept getting spooked, doing circuits at the slightest sneeze.

I had settled on my course for the afternoon as I had decided to stay. A circuit of the fields backing onto the marsh.
This area forms part of the old disused tip and continues along the path to meet the existing recycling centre.
The fields adjacent to the tip gave up sightings of Meadow Pipits and Stonechats. As I turned the corner and began heading back west, a raptor flew from the trees. Quite possibly a Merlin but it was gone before I had the chance to get a decent view.

The mix of tip, fields and lakes is broken a couple of times by solar farms. The solar farm past the recycling centre bordering the lake had some rare geese overwintering. White Fronted Geese normally spend the winter further north in the UK so these were quite a rarity. 

This seemed to be a family unit, two adults and a juvenile.

I was coming close to full circle now as I headed back along Lower Penington Lane and the car park.
Out on the flooded fields, what I thought was a Marsh Harrier quartering the ground, turned out to be a Buzzard doing a good interpretation.
It settled on the ground for a positive identification.

Purple Sandpiper were on my must see list today but the camouflage expert avoided me. Only Turnstones could placate me.  

The day was lengthening and my departure grew ever closer.
I thought of spending the last moments of the day watching the sun go down over Titchfield Haven near our home.

As I sat by the harbour wall having reached The Haven, the sun reacted with the clouds in an almost identical way to the morning at Pennington.

Looking back into the Haven, the sunset lit up the reedbeds...

The Red Funnel Ferry made it's way back to Southampton from Cowes on the Isle of Wight.

Lepe Park on the southern edge of the New Forest, glowed beautifully as the sun finally set.

Another day done. I had watched the beginning and witnessed the end.  The sights and colours had enthralled from start to finish. Eight hours, just eight, but it seemed a lifetime, and I had thoroughly enjoyed every moment.  

The title of this post is a line taken from the poem 'Sunset on the Sea' by Moonbee Canady

https://www.poemhunter.com/poems/sunset/page-2/20028471/