Raising the Curtain
"A friend of mine took me out on the marshes the other day.
He felt I needed a bit of an airing. Although we had arranged the
trip weeks ago I was a bit reluctant. It was cold, wet and windy.
The fire beckoned and there was a hundred and one things to do.
My friend was insistent, so with some bad grace I wrapped up warmly,
pulled on my walking boots and shuffled out to his waiting car.
As we drove passed the church I was alarmed to see that the notice
board had blown over. ‘Can you stop Richard, I think I ought
to put that right’ I pleaded. ‘No, leave it we are going
to go for a walk and there are enough people around. Someone else
will deal with it’. I felt annoyed and guilty. I hate leaving
a simple chore for someone else to do when it is often easier to
do it yourself. . I, like many people in my profession feel guilty
if something needs doing and reluctant to ask someone else to do
it. My friend was determined to deliver me from this and refused
to stop the car. We were going to the marshes and that was that.
"When we arrived everything looked bleak and grey. Within
minutes of getting out of the car I was aware of a high pitched
piping noise like that made by hundreds of penny whistles. The marshes
were covered with grey and brown birds. These were neither duck
nor goose but rejoice in the name of ‘widgeon’. The
blue grey of the male birds’ wings exactly matched that of
the sky. They were all busy engaged in feeding and occasionally
taking to the air in a whirling flight which reminded us both of
shoals of fish in a tropical ocean. Soon the rain was beating down
out of that grey sky so we took refuge in a hide where there was
shelter and a chance to watch the wild life unobserved. As we peered
out at the spectacle of geese and widgeon there was an explosion
of noisy rooks on the horizon. It was like sitting in a theatre
just before the show starts. A hubbub rises and then subsides as
expectancy increases. Then the curtain of rain was drawn back as
the stage was set for the most extraordinary light show. A rainbow
shimmered in the distance while, centre stage, a pair of stone chats
picked over tussocks of grass. Where they looking for that illusive
pot of gold?
"We are at the beginning of Lent, a time in the churches’
year when everything is paired down and we try to concentrate on
the essentials. We remember Jesus seeking out the wilderness as
a place of spiritual renewal and focus. We in Broadland have our
own wilderness on the doorstep. It may get crowded in the summer
but the marshes are always going to be deserted. They will repay
a visit and helped me see things in perspective. What a spectacle
awaits those with eyes to see and ears to hear.
"By the time we returned from our marshland ramble, some kind
soul had picked up the notice board so I needn’t have worried
about it."
At the Edge, Phillip McFadyen
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