The silence of the curlews

There were a few days when the lovely bubbling cry changed into the summer curlew cry, the repeating of their name. The young were raised, and giving tongue. I knew what it meant. They would be off. Now they have gone, all of them. Not a bubble, not a peep. They will be back next spring, nesting, feeding. Now they are on the coast, and wanderlust grips me too. But I must stay.


2 responses to “The silence of the curlews

  1. The curlews have the advantage of not having a book to publish!

  2. rosemaryhannah

    That is so so true!

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