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Sunday, 14 June 2009
If there's one thing I miss from my narrowboat-dwelling days, it's never waking up to find ducklings playing outside my bedroom window any more. For some reason they just don't come to visit us up on our hill.
So when my husband & I were thinking about where to go out yesterday, when I suggested that - since it's baby bird season - it might be an appropriate time to visit our local wetlands centre at Slimbridge.
We first saw one little fella who'd become separated from his family - he was paddling around at top speed, squawking frantically.
Thankfully, it didn't take him long to find his siblings, mum, and dad:
I also had a lot of fun taking pictures of some entertaining - and adorably fluffy - goslings:
Look at the disproportionately large feet of this young moorhen:
We were on our way back to the car when Andy spotted three tiny coot chicks (I don't know of a special word for them. Anyone??) hiding in the rushes, while their parents rushed about nearby trying to find food. I spent several minutes trying to photograph them, but they never fully came clear of the leaves - however, I was eventually rewarded with a shot of some actual feeding (regurgitated food - yum!).
Even the flamingos have young mouths to feed at the moment: