A couple of yearly firsts for me ar NwH RSPB, Swifts on high, living up to their name, zooming around, manic wing flapping. My God those little guys must use up massise amounts of energy to flap-fast.
So much for flying on high, now for flying on low, St Marks' Flies have finally made a belated appearance on the reserve. They are brilliant, so close to see. Their dangly legs so distictive, and quite honestly diagnostic as far as I am concerned, like airy-buzzers with their under carriage in permanent landing mode.
In the over-flow car-park, by the the ancient Walnut Tree a Willow Warbler sang with its warble, then brief descending note song.
In a nearby bush a Blackcap and Wren fought it out vocally. laterlly joined by a Whitethroat, who with his scritchy-scratchy song was like comparing Rod Stewart to Luciano Pavrotti (Apologies to Sir Rod).
Whilst placing out some eggs for the Badgers, one of my beloved Nightingale started to sing, I never tire of hearing it. That initial mono-sylabic whistle followed by quick warble. After that anything is up for grabs and a cacophony of various melodious song delights the human ear.
As egocentric as we are. This small songster has scant knowledge of the effect on Homo sapiens with all our odes and poems. All he cares about is finding a mate to perpetuate his species.
The pandemic means nothing to him. Nor to the rare ants at entrance gate to NwH, or the Cuckoos and Nightingales.
So to be brutally frank, if the whole of humanity were to perish due to Covid, the only losers would be us, and the winners would be non-huminoid species as they have done for millions of years.