The birds were a bit more varied and exciting this morning, starting with a Marsh Harrier labouring high south against a Tiepolo sky just as I left the house. There was I, between cars and dustbins, on my way to WinchelseaÂ and there it was, with a view way across the ChannelÂ and France as its destination.
As I scanned for Gannets from the top of the hill, the coast was speckled with little bands of migrating birds, while overhead the sky was full of twittering hirundines and passing Meadow Pipits and Goldfinches.
The oaks along the old cliffline were busy with Chiffchaffs and Chaffinches, pursued by a Merlin performing headlong figures-of-eight among the treetops.
No sign of the Spoonbill at the Flood, but a Tree Pipit called overhead and a few minutes later an Osprey came flapping across the marsh, glidingÂ low over the heads of a couple of dog-walkers whoÂ remained oblivious to its presence in spite ofÂ its glittering white undersides, lit by the low sun.