Bartimaeus

We arrived in good time to enjoy lunch at a cafe. We moored up beside the cafe, but as I was tying off a swan and cygnets were hissing and reaching over, to the amusement of others eating outside the cafe. The parent could have been protective. The cygnets might also have been territorial. Perhaps not many use this mooring area, though there are rings. The cygnets were fledging a little and the stubby wings were cute, as we're the little tuft in the centre of their heads, a quiff had been slicked into shape by the water.

Later, just after a squiggle around a tree and on-coming boat, we saw a little row of baby swallows lined up on a branch overhanging the water. Immediately beyond there was a good mooring spot. It had a field of cows and calves opposite with pretty purple flowers, meadowsweet and rushes. A calf was peering across at us through the vegetation. Perfect mooring!

We moored up. One of the calves had been drinking and then stopping to look at us.  Mum walked  off a bit. When the calf came back it took the unorthodox approach of coming in from being between the hind legs. This is not an approach a milkmaid would favour. Shane wondered if it risked being kicked. I thought that unlikely but did wonder if the mother would be mindful of her calf's position.

Even as the cow stepped forward a little, the calf carried on drinking and maintained the position, unconcerned. That was until the cow lifted her tail and, without regard for her offspring, let loose. The calf startled back, flicking its ears and shaking its head. It was splatted down the neck on one side and no amount of twitching cleaned it off. It returned to its mother's side and resumed feeding from a safer place.

We were joined by swallows, loads of them, swooping down for a sip or an insect. There were young ones, slightly smaller, and with smaller tails and less adept at skimming the water at speed. They would splosh down, getting well dunked in the process. 

They gathered in the trees in front of the boat so many were flying and wheeling. It was amazing to watch.

The next day was my birthday though I had forgotten as I woke but other greetings reminded me. Shane wondered what I would like to do with the day. I felt we were in such an idyllic spot, that I wanted to stay right here with the swallows, calves and the baby moorhen that was cheeping occasionally. Shane wanted bread and milk so he got on the folding bike while I collected my butterfly selection for the Big Butterfly count and put my feet up.

He surprised me first by arriving back from the opposite direction and secondly by bearing a bunch of flowers.

Some had the foresight to get presents to me in advance, so I even had some gifts to open. It was a literary year with three books, one with stories related to boaters, one with stories related to poetry and one a story by a poet about being a boater!

I thought they looked good with the sun and fields behind, but the arrangement was proved unwise when a gust of wind blew over the cards and flowers and spilt water on the floor table and books. All was quickly mopped up or dried in the sun. I moved the cards out of the breeze. I found a heavier, wider jar and moved it to the table on the other side. The jar was less pretty with the label still firmly glued and it was mixed in with our eating spot, but the wider neck allowed the flowers to spread out more.

The sun came and went over the day. In a sunny spell a comma landed on me. That was a birthday treat in itself.

All day the swallows flew past us, surrounding us and perched nearby. Other birds were also in the reeds and hedges but harder to see. Merlin identified a wren and cetti's warbler, which trilled back and forth. I peered in the hedge and got a look at the warbler. It is a dowdy bird but I was happy as the books referred to them as easily heard but seldom seen. 

The swallow babies were gathering in the hedge too. I could see five or six perched at once in the same bush at times. 

I tried to get a little closer but whether it was my presence or just their decision to move, they flew off. But one little one had got it's leg caught on a bramble and was dangling upsides down. It flapped occasionally which only made it swing a little. It was just hanging down like a bat. I felt sorry I might have caused the snagging. I wondered if Shane might be able to reach it, but he thought it was still too high. I wondered about we might have to gain height, a step to stand on or a tool, with a little length to cut the branch. I put on the thick gardening gloves and and realised I might be able to pull the bramble branch down so that the baby swallow was in Shane's reach. I gently eased the briar down and the change of angle released the grip on the bird and it flew off unharmed. What a relief!

The next day we were not surrounded by swallows, the lack of sun meant fewer insects. We decided to walk into Market Boswell. I saw lots of white butterflies but none stayed still to be sure which of the white varieties there were. The town is pretty and we were greeted with a floral display.

There was the odd thatched cottage at the centre and a little row of three terrace thatched cottages. 

I had a very tasty slice of tarte au citron. We had an enjoyable chat with a lone woman boater, who we had seen near the cafe we had lunch two days earlier. She had not seen us and in that occasion had not stopped to go to the cafe. I had recognised her and her boat from a few years earlier, but we were less memorable than her. 

The next day with no cows visible and the swallows having chosen a different favourite spot, it was easier to choose to move on. Also we really needed water soon. It wasn't far away but it was very powerful and jumping out of the tank. Shane came to help and found I wasn't kidding about the powerful jet as the same happened when he tried to position it and it whipped around spraying liberally. He decided to do what I had thought was necessary and just sit with it holding it down. Fortunately despite the near empty tank, it didn't take long to fill.

We moved on and moored up opposite sheep this time and headed to a pub, the Horse and Jockey.  We had seen a sign to it during a walk on my birthday, but it had been too far away to consider adding to the walk. Now we were near and it was sunny. I chose the irresistibly named 'alpacalypse' IPA. Shane chose the locally brewed 'what the fox's hat'.

We enjoyed our drinks and I went for a second alpacalypse and ordered dinner, a late birthday celebration.  We both had delicious but slightly tricky to eat choices. The sauce splashed around a bit when I was eating my linguine, but none on Shane and just a spot on me.