I sometimes wonder if, when looking for wildlife, you get clues to its presence, but only at a subliminal level. Then the “unthought known”, as it’s sometimes called, guides you to the conscious discovery.
As I walked along a track flanked by tall spruce, each treetop decked with hundreds of fresh cones, I remember thinking: “There should be crossbills here.” At the Goyt this is by no means certain. Last year produced just a single record, and I’ve seen them in all Derbyshire only a handful of times. But lo! There they were instantly: three initially and a flock of 12 in total.
