A stream of people heads steadily down the path, towards the viewpoint over the reedbed. As I walk alongside them, I’m reminded of a crowd heading to a football match, or a gathering of medieval pilgrims hoping for a miracle.
There is usually a moment, about 20 minutes before sunset, when the gathering falls strangely silent, anticipating what we are about to witness. Then, just as some are wondering if they’ve come to the wrong place, or on the wrong day, the first birds appear in the far distance. A small flock of starlings, flying determinedly in our direction. A collective sigh of relief ripples through the crowd. We can relax.
