Walking a reluctant Sherlock along the squelchy, mudded bank of the river Otter in a fine “mizzle” of Devonshire rain; I couldn’t help but notice the incredibly high number of Martins darting acrobatically above the water. There were literally hundreds swooping to collect the insects that had been tempted by the warmth to hatch. ForContinue reading “A Swoop”
Simon Harlond 