A running log of birds seen, weather noted, and the odd thing that stopped me mid-walk. Kept mostly for my own memory.
Stood in the garden this evening waiting for the usual screaming party over the rooftops and realised, slowly, that it's been at least a week since I last saw one. They always leave earlier than feels right — while it's still properly summer.
A green sandpiper on the muddy edge by the sluice, bobbing away to itself like it had never been anywhere else. Felt too early to call it autumn, but apparently the waders disagree with me.
A roving band of long-tailed tits came through the hedge along the towpath, a dozen or so, calling constantly to keep track of each other. This year's young mixed in with the adults, indistinguishable except for being slightly less sure of themselves on the thinner twigs.
Walked the usual loop and barely heard a thing. This happens every year around now and I still fall for it — convince myself something's wrong before remembering that everything's just finished breeding and would rather not be noticed for a while.