Two months into my summer contract helping to monitor hen harriers on the Geltsdale reserve, it is hard to imagine a more enjoyable way to spend my working hours. With winter’s icy grip on the uplands loosened and spring struggling through, there is always something to admire. Early morning starts reveal the bubbling spectacle of black grouse strutting their stuff; shrill golden plover mark slow progress across rough moorland terrain, the strange cries of the curlew adding to the feeling of wilderness; the melodious trills of the skylark giving hope to the prospect of warm and sunny days; and the slow return of summer migrants such as whinchats, grasshopper warblers and cuckoo. Above all, every hill scanned, every corner turned, especially when half clothed in a mysterious atmospheric shroud of wispy cloud or mist, offers the possibility of a sight of the elusive hen harrier. As yet, I have had just one sighting of this incredible bird; every day is spent in a state of suppressed excitement, with frequent momentary disappointments when possible sightings turn out to be more mundane buzzards or kestrels. But with the advent of warmer weather my hopes continue unabated that next time it will be the real thing!