This saltmarsh has a slow, rhythmic pulse. Twice daily, the conjunction of the moon’s gravitational pull and the Earth’s rotation draws saltwater into the Coquet estuary, sending it creeping along brackish, muddy channels, through Spartina grass, between sand dunes and fields.
It’s low tide. A little egret, waiting for the first trickle that will coax crabs to sidle cautiously out of their mud burrows, keeps a wary eye on us as we pass. The last spring tide left a broad ribbon of reed straw, driftwood and moulted seabird feathers – from gulls, waders, even a few from geese and swans – along the edge of the dune, all the way to the high point that overlooks Amble on the far bank of the river.
