Earworms, by their nature, are terribly annoying, especially when you can’t quite remember the words, then suddenly they parachute into your brain as stark as the infinite fields filling your binolikars:
Dotterels to the north of me,
Dotterels to the west,
Stuck in the middle with you….
Ah, that was it.
No joy today, but it would be unfair to say Plex wasn’t on good form.
Before the lycra-clad horde began Wigginsing down the tracks, and after the wind dropped out of Hannah’s sails, the air was filled with the classic mossland soundtrack of Skylark, Lapwing and Corn Bunting, and nothing else.
Magical for a few minutes at least.
Although distant, four glowing Yellow Wagtails rather stood out against the black Lancashire earth, as did a single ghostly White Wag accompanying ’em.
Nine Wheatear, four Whimbrel, nine Whitethroat, two Yellowhammers, two House Martins and 22 Swallows kept the spring vibe going.
Where fields have greened over already, Buzzards ran about grabbing invertebrates.
At Haskayne Cutting impossibly coloured Orange-Tips were gorging on Cuckooflowers and Marsh Cinquefoil was out by the waterside.
So no sign of the target (they are a precious, tightly clasped memory these days), but the backing track is still great.