Bog Myrtle & Peat

Although April is when black grouse lekking behaviour will reach a peak, the month is stolen by one of Britain’s best loved and beautiful waders. Driving up through the Borders yesterday to visit a friend with vast numbers of black grouse, I stopped by the roadside on a stunning day to see what I could see. Peewits were everywhere. A single three acre field had four pairs, all displaying and pirouetting around in the sunshine.

They are such extraordinary little birds, and when they pass nearby, you can see their heads twitching in and out of their shoulders with the effort of making that fantastic sound. One by one they landed, or in graceful peewit terms, they simply stopped flying and found themselves on the ground, then there was a riot of hissing and bickering between the pairs.

The valley was swollen with tourists and holiday visitors, and teams of amusing neon cyclists came groaning up the glen behind me as two blackcock appeared on a wall two hundred yards away and started to wander back and forth along the topstones. A snipe squeaked overhead, and a golden plover snored on the opposite face of the valley. One gang of middle aged women stopped for a gulp of isotonic nonsense and rested their bicycles on the grass as I watched the birds swirling around in the bright air. One of them commented on the peewits, explaining in authoritative tones that they were avocets.

It was such a nice day and the birds were putting on such a good show that I couldn’t help laughing aloud as the cyclists moved on, leaving a slug-like trail of perspiration on the road behind them.