Awake before sunrise on what promised to be an auspicious day, always fills my heart with joyous expectation.
I was right to feel this way if the sunrise was anything to gauge it by.
I was stood on the sea wall at Pennington on the southern shore of the New Forest looking across to the Isle of Wight.
The thin misty shroud that clung to the valleys there, also puffed out onto the cool waters of the Solent as the early morning Red Funnel ferry from Lymington, slipped silently across to Yarmouth.
The reeds on the marsh before me lit up like jewels, barely stirring in the stillness.
Some days, the clouds and the sun combine to paint the most majestic and picturesque of landscapes. Today was such a day, truly breathtaking...
There are a myriad of pools and ditches that surround this area and my attention was turned from the golden vista above, to below the sea wall into the monochrome world of Fishtail Lagoon, where the sun had yet to penetrate. Here a rare Grey Phalarope fed dizzyingly close by, picking at morsels on the water's surface, spinning around like a clockwork toy.
I have accentuated the black and white to contrast the colour above. I was waiting for the sun to illuminate the lagoon and transform this demure creature from grey to gold.
The sun was catching the reed edge just distant from me , so I didn't have too long to wait.
The reed tops on Butts Lagoon on the eastern side of the wall were already on fire. I wasted no time in capturing this splendor. The colour of the reeds in the light is equal to the sound they make stirring in the breeze in my opinion. That's why they are one of my favourite plants. Every season shows them in a different phase and appreciation.
The sea wall path snakes around the pools and lagoons. Here a man and his dogs marched past the path ahead of me as I looked across to the island.
Glancing over my shoulder with the light, Hurst Castle - with it's lighthouse - juts out into the Solent almost touching the Isle of Wight..the closest point to the island.
The dawn was at it's most atmospheric by now. In the low tide shoreline I crept up quietly on a usually nervous Greenshank. After some patience, I was rewarded with some glorious views in the light.
Back over in Fishtail opposite, the sun was reaching the Phalarope, nearly there but not quite perfect..
Back on the marsh over the head of the Greenshank I could make out the unmistakable shape of a Peregrine sat on the concrete block.
Another raptor was about looking for an easy meal across the Marsh too..
This time a female Sparrowhawk sped around trying to flush an unsuspecting Pipit.
Every minute the sun rose higher casting more golden colour on the low tide ahead of me where many Redshank lined the shore..
and ultimately back into Fishtail Lagoon and onto my prey, providing me with the light I had craved and stayed around for. It was so well worth the wait...
This is a deceiving little wader. So diminutive, with a feeding technique almost like no other. Although part of the 'Wader' family, this tiny creature often swims in a spinning motion, making photography quite difficult. Doubly so with it's mainly grey and white plumage against the light. Setting the exposure can be a challenge. So a soft gold sunrise helps enormously whilst trying to capture it's contrasting colours and character.
It is a passing migrant in very small numbers. This was only the second time I had been lucky enough to see one. This is a juvenile and in fact there were two here, although they wouldn't get close enough for a double shot.
They breed in the Arctic and in contrast to most species of bird, the female is the more luxuriant in plumage and leaves the male to rear the young. Only around 200 visit these shores on migration, usually between October and January, so seeing a couple at the end of September was a welcome sighting.
This delicate little bird is seemingly ambivalent to human presence too. I was stood not two feet from it at times as it quite happily fed before me. It's Arctic breeding grounds being so unpopulated by man leaving this bird with little fear of humans it seemed.
It's all to easy to keep trying for that perfect shot so I had to reign myself in and carry on my walk.
There were other rare early migratory birds around. I almost immediately found the other one. A Temmincks Stint, which, in this long distant shot, you will have to trust me in it being the right hand blob, feeding in the shallow scrape along with some Dunlin.
That was as close as it would allow, so I plodded on along the sea wall, hoping to come back to closer, more intimate views later on.
Heading East with the sea to my right and Oxey Lagoon to my left, the latter had a real mix of waders feeding in the slate grey water.
Redshank..
Spotted Redshank..
and a mix of three... Red, Spotted and Greenshank
Some wildfowl were beginning to arrive from the North also. Wigeon are among the early arrivals that spend their time in our 'warmer' Winter climate to that of Northern Europe.
Sea Asters were still flowering along the tide line providing important food sources for late Butterflies and many other insects still on the wing in late Summer, early Autumn.
To accomplish the whole walk around Pennington, Keyhaven and up to Lymington takes some effort and most of the day, certainly given the speed and pottering I can usually muster. This is no route march for us. To take in the surroundings and be able to catch a sight of something special takes patience and time.
I had braced myself for the extra stint - no pun intended - for the furthest destination of Normandy Marsh nearest to Lymington Harbour. The masts of the moored yachts clearly evident as you reach this place.
As the crow flies, it would take about ten minutes to reach. Negotiating the sea wall, unless you have a boat or a helicopter, takes a good thirty to forty minutes depending on what you see. Sometimes up to an hour. It's a lovely walk although by this stage the muscles can be needing a rest !
Eventually I reached Normandy. After all this time you can be rewarded with, well, not a lot sometimes, making the journey a bit of a let down. Then there are times when it is well worth the walk. We have had fantastic sightings of Kingfishers feeding along the ditch below the sea wall path before. That is worth the walk on it's own. In winter this place can be alive with wildfowl and waders.
No Kingfisher today unfortunately but many early Winter waders were zipping around. In among the Dunlin was a Knot, second from the left in the shot.
Sometimes in the bay there can be Slavonian or even Black Necked Grebes but it was a little early for them. Great Crested were present though.
It was nearing lunchtime, so it was back to the van for some sustenance before heading off on the afternoon jaunt West towards Keyhaven this time. The view across to The Needles on the Western tip of the Isle of Wight quite clear with the old lighthouse on the end.
A Grey Heron fishing was first on the menu after lunch, out on the marsh.
Having reached Keyhaven, the circular route leading along the inland path always mixes things up in diversity. This Variable Damselfly was a pleasing sight as it settled on the shrubbery along the gravel track.
The last remnants of the unjustly vilified Ragwort flowered along the pathway. Intrusive and rampant this plant maybe, but it's importance in the scheme of nature is not to be overlooked. This is of huge importance to many rare insect species and late nectar source to many common ones too, such as this Small Copper, which used to be very common but now, sadly as with so many other species is becoming harder to find.
Also finding solace in it's nectar bounty was this female Common Blue.
I managed to get up close as it concerned itself with refueling.
The day was drawing to a close as I reached the car park, but I had unfinished business with a certain Stint before I took flight...
Back on Fishtail Lagoon once more, the elusive Temmincks Stint had decided to grace me with it's presence again. This time a little closer...
A wee bit closer ...
A then a little bit more...
Finally managing to edge nearer along the muddy shore as it fed next to a Dunlin..
Normally the Dunlin (in the foreground here) is considered such a small wader but the Stint in comparison is smaller still and so much rarer.
Rare as it seems, it's pretty much an LBJ or 'Little Brown Job' to coin a phrase. Still a pretty little bird when viewed close up however. If it allows such close a contact !?
From the rare to the common. This Black Headed Gull - albeit in Winter plumage- proved too good to resist as the sun lowered in the sky..
and finally as I left to head back to the van, the Grey Phalarope was still to be seen busying itself across the surface of Fishtail Lagoon as it was this morning. That wonderful glorious golden morning that will live long in my memory.
The title of this post is a line taken from the poem 'Dawn' by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dawn-197/
