Mud between your toes doesn’t feel all that good. One of us had already lost one pair of wellies and I was about to loose mine. Thankfully the marsh gave me both feet back intacto.
It wasn’t an easy search for the Jack Snipe. The problem was they sat so tight. I almost trod on one before it took flight. I’d been stood within inches of it for around 15 minutes. I couldn’t see it. These tiny waders are just the masters of camouflage. Photographing them was dependent on seeing them before they shot off like a feather bullet. After two hours stood in ankle deep water we gave up. My feelings were mixed. I was disappointed not to photograph one, elated to have seen them and full of marvel for a species that had well and truly beaten us … this time.
A walk back to the car was sprinkled with a few Siskin and a nice flock of Crossbill but somehow they didn’t make up for not seeing the Jack Snipe on the deck. I still felt cheated. The Bean Goose we saw later came close to recompense. It was only when watching this lone goose with its Pink footed mate I saw the Red Kite circling above me. Perhaps now the debt had been paid.
Letter From Norfolk 
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