It was a dark lowering morning at first light. Gleams of brighter weather on the horizon but a gentle but bitter north breeze reinforced the 3 C temperature my car told me of.
But what a morning. The sky was filled with skeins of pinkies shuttling across the sky yelping encouragement to each other. Groups had already settled on stubble fields while another group hung around the flooded piece near to the visitor centre.
And as I came round the corner Cotehill Loch looked pretty busy. The usual congregation of ducks and coots had been supplemented. 90 ghostly whoopers, youngsters and adults, had taken up temporary residence to the annoyance of the local mute swan pair and their 3 cygnets. A number of the whoopers were resting up with heads under there wings. Had they arrive during the night from Iceland and, exhausted, were catching some well earned sleep? Whatever, they are the harbingers of winter, arriving on a cold northerly wind, adding their hooting voices to the mass pinkie chorus all around, and reminding me to get my thermals out of the draw.