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Midwinter

A hard frost last night and the reeds along the river path are thick with rime. The rich brown colours of a Wren and a few Reed Buntings stand out against the whiteness.

 But many birds seem to merge into this pale landscape, and sometimes in the strained light of this midwinter morning a bird’s plumage can look startlingly unfamiliar. Like the spectral grey of a Herring Gull’s back that today appears silver as it flies along the river. So unfamiliar that for an instant it seems as though an ancient sword has erupted from the water, reversing the committal that formed part of a long-forgotten ritual.

 Walking the path I wonder whether people made such votive offerings to the Arun in the millennia before it was scoured and canalised for navigation and industry. It seems probable, especially at the shallower points where the river could be forded. Crossing the fast-flowing stream would always require caution and respect. A sacrifice wouldn’t go amiss.

 Or maybe offerings were made at the river’s deeper stretches, such as that between South Stoke and Offham where the channel is said to be twenty feet deep even at low tide. After all, crossings are not always made between one side of the river and the other.

 Either way this was a bird, not an artefact. One of the Herring Gulls that feed in the water meadows and fields, the pale grey of their backs distinct from the whiteness of the nearby egrets and swans. Those include as well as the usual Little Egrets a scarce Cattle Egret near Lyminster, while there are ten Bewick’s Swans near Burpham as well as the usual Mute Swans. There are many shades of paleness in this bleached landscape.

 This piece is also posted on Arun Wild

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