Sundays wir always special, Sundays wir when az got tae spend time on mah patch, mah wild space away fae hassles o` school an family life.
This however wiz ah special Sunday. It wiz the official opening o` R.S.P.B. Barons Haugh Nature Reserve. These past two years ah spent Sundays on the reserve an hud been gave the title Junior Ranger by the Warden, Richard. Wi a handful o` R.S.P.B. Members an volunteers wi hud worked towards this day, Building paths, planting trees an mowing meadow's all the things ye wid expect in creating a nature reserve.
A single track road winded its way through the ancient woodland at the bottom of Adele Street, Sycamore and Chestnut trees bursting with leaf and life stretched oer the road blocking oot daylight, shafts o` morning sun sparkled aff leaves an road. It wiz spooky even in the daytime, but it wiz mah patch, an az always felt safe among trees.
A cacophony o` voices echoed through branches replacing the usual sound of birdsong ah was accustomed too in this wonderfully wild place. There must be loads o` people already ah thought, excitedly peering through the trees tae the car park tae see whit aw the hubbub wiz.
Crowds o' people, more than az hud ever seen before on the reserve mingled aboot various stalls, looking oer Bird books, telescopes an binoculars. Display boards lined the ootside o` the Porta cabin that wiz used as a Ranger station, maps o` the reserve, photographs eh volunteers days an past events attracted the attention o` the crowd.
Constant chatter an the crunch o` gravel filled mah ears ah walked oer tae the cabin. Steven the other Junior Ranger stood at the door o the cabin handing oot cups of juice tae face painted kids.
A buzz fell oer the crowd in the carpark, groups o` people rushed past them heading oer the hill towards the reserve. ‘Quickly, can both of you run to the Marsh hide, someone claims to have spotted a Bar Tailed Godwit’. Russell shouted running up the hill guiding whit wiz becoming a constant mass o` people snaking alang the path.
The hill wiz carpeted in swathes o` colour as meadow flowers o` aw different sizes grew in a tangled mass and sprawled either side o` the path. The crowd paid nae attention tae the natural patterns and hues, white tuffs of Meadow sweet its sticky heady scent, reds and yellows o` Poppy's an field Buttercup flowing back an forth in the breeze, blue patches o` Speedwell an Forget me knots creeped alang the stone chipped path whur noo hunners o` feet crunched alang in ah monstrous snake like fashion, constant chatter an excitement drowning oot the cries o` Richard asking people to ‘take their time’. Richard stood by the small wooden style at the top o` the hill ushering people one by one, franticly trying tae get groups tae stop an admire the view o` the reserve in a bid tae slow the mass doon. Astonishing as the view wiz, his efforts were tae no avail.
To the right huge verdant clumps o` life that made up the woodland sprawled off in tae the distance, stretching tae touch sky an cloud. The towers o` Muirhouse looming oer treetop like concrete monuments, a reminder that you werne quite surrounded by nature, tae the south farmland an forestry plantations lay the other side o` the M74 and in the foreground the reserve, a great expanse o` water wan part marshland wan part deep lake which wiz once long ago mine shafts noo flooded. The river Clyde snaked alang the back o` the Haugh and on the opposite bank large gravel mounds, extracted fae when the mines were in use remained as a constant reminder of whit used tae be, a glorious mix o` humanity, toon, industry and nature aw in wan ootstanding vista, but nae bidy paid any attention, besought with ornithological excitement the crowds made their way hurriedly towards the marsh hide.
The smell of creosote wiz thick in the air ah heady scent somewhat o` burnt wid mixed wi pine filled the hide, It wiz standing room only, telescopes and folks lined every window eyes franticly scanning the Haugh wi binoculars for the elusive rare wader.
Waterfowl o` aw shapes an sizes bobbed aboot in water an scoured mudflats, Mallards, Tufted Duck, Teal, Swans, Lapwings an a variety o` Gulls swarmed the aquascape on mass, ah buzz filled the air like electricity as everyone waited patiently anticipating the call, then! ‘Ave got it’ someone cried oot, ‘By the tall Reeds, oan the far bank’. Telescopes turned, people pointed and clambered with binoculars trying franticly tae spot the very rare Bar tailed Godwit. Ah wiz standing at the back o` the hide scanning the coal pits an pylons on the far side o` the reserve ah turned tae Steven ‘Third pylon tae the left o` the tall pit, whit dae ye see’ Steven scanned wi his binoculars jist as ah large bird flew from the pylon an descended oer the Haugh. ‘Peregrine Falcon’ he cried oot. Everyone went silent, five thousand wildfowl took tae the air, binoculars tracking the Godwit as it took tae the skies, safety in numbers must have been its instinct as it bobbed an weaved in flight amongst the cloud of birds now swarming in the sky.
The crowd watched as the Peregrine swooped back an forth like ah world war two dogfighter the displays o'acrobatic flight astonished the crowd as the peregrine dived avoiding the lapwings acting as kamikaze missiles trying tae scare aff the assaulting peregrine, then it rose, climbing high above the cloud o`birds turned an made wan final targeted dive. At over two hunner mile an hour from great height oan a direct path, an in a flash an a puff o`feathers the very rare, first time visitor tae the reserve. The Bar tailed Godwit, was nae mare.