G Is For ... Great Crested Gloom

We have returned to South Wales after a few days away in Lincolnshire. As always, we had a fantastic time, and I have managed to return with a few more ticks than I set out with. I've taken the year list to right end of the '80's, which I think isn't too bad for this half hearted year and life lister.

We called in (via the very good butchers in Butterwick) Frampton Marshes RSPB reserve on the way back. It was a grey, misty and generally gloomy day. The reserve was quiet to the point of disappointment, you sometimes get days like this. I have yomped around Newport Wetlands before now, without as much as sniff of anything interesting. Almost without fail, as you have given up on the day on being a bad job, and you've just got some fresh air and some exercise at the very least, something comes along that makes it all worth while.

We had reached that point and were heading back to the car park, and the long journey East, when we both spied a commotion in the reeds. Off in the distance, two Great Crested Grebes we performing their mating ritual! After hanging around Roath Park a week back and only witnessing the head waving, I finally got to see the reed slapping dance! It was way to far off to get a photo, and way to gloomy ... but I didn't care. I am always a wildlife watcher first, and a photographer second.

What a wonderful set of images to play in our minds eye and give us a bit of a smile on our journey back.