The Amigos assemble at Slimbridge

Some days in the field are all about the birds. Others are about the people you share them with. And then, every so often, you’re lucky enough to get both wrapped up in one wonderfully daft, laughter-filled bundle of a day. Today at WWT Slimbridge was exactly that.

The Three Amigos assembled once again: myself, Paul Joy and Nicola Johns. Armed with good (Nikon/Olympus) and bad cameras (Always Canon), and an impressive supply of questionable jokes, we were ready for whatever the wetlands decided to throw at us. The weather, for once, played along beautifully, and despite the heavy rain forecast, it remained dry, but the clouds were dark and threatening.  Naturally, the rain waited politely until we were safely inside the Tudor Arms later that afternoon. The nature gods were kind to us, amigos.

From the first steps onto the reserve, the day fizzed with easy banter and shared anticipation. There’s something special about birding with friends who don’t just tolerate your excitement but amplify it. Stresses and worries were forgotten for a time; it was perfect for chilling out.

At the Willow Hide, a Water Rail put on a show of delightful skulduggery. Skulking, darting, freezing mid-step like it had suddenly remembered it had left the gas on. We all caught glimpses as it threaded through the vegetation underneath the bird feeders and searched through the leaf litter looking for morsels to eat. The rail's perseverance was rewarded with a big, juicy slug, and it sped off into the reeds to devour its slimy meal. 

The undisputed highlight for me, birding-wise, came at South Lake. A big flock of Lapwing dominated the skies above and began to descend onto the lake. They were joined by a swirling flock of Dunlins that took flight and zoomed, weaving and folding back in on itself in tight, flashing formations. Then, as if on cue, they swung into the light, and the sun managed to break for a moment through the gloom behind. 

Back-lit. Every wing edge was glowing. Hundreds of tiny silhouettes slicing through gold-washed air. It was one of those moments where your brain shouts, “Take photos!” but another part of you just stands there, slack-jawed, soaking it in. I did manage a few bursts on the camera, thankfully—proof that it really happened and not just some over-romantic birding daydream.

The Lapwing flocks were truly awesome, especially viewed from the Rushy Hide, Tack piece and South Lake.

From the Van Der Bovenkamp hide, we watch a flock of 13 Common Cranes fly past in formation, which was amazing. There was a huge flock of Teal Ducks that were very nervous and just could not settle. A predator must have been lurking.

Then a Marsh Harrier arrived out of nowhere and took an unlucky Teal. The Marsh Harrier, clearly feeling quite pleased with itself, had secured lunch and began to tuck into her lunch. Suddenly, we were surprised to see a Red Kite mob the Marsh Harrier. Startled, it hurtled away from the bigger raptor and dropped a piece of its prey. The Kite swept the dropped food up from the ground with casual ease. Theft, executed with aerial finesse. The Harrier hung on to the bits and pieces of the duck that remained, and remarkably, both birds settled on the ground quite close to each other.

We stopped in the aviary for a bit of a breather and to marvel at the close views of Avocets, Ruff, Redshank, Oystercathers, Red-breasted Mergansers, Garganey and Ringed-Plovers. The peace and quiet in the aviary was abruptly shattered when the flock panicked and took to the air within the confines of the aviary. A male Sparrowhawk was spotted above, staring down from above us, obviously very frustrated by the netting preventing its attack on the birds below.

Between the birds, the day was stitched together with laughter—gentle mockery over missed shots, exaggerated claims of photographic brilliance, and the kind of running jokes that can raise eyebrows and gasps to anyone outside the group. The Three Amigos were in fine form.

By the time we retreated to the Tudor Arms, cold drinks, coffees and and wholesome food felt richly earned. Only then did the sky finally give up its dry-day pretence and open for business. We watched the rain slide down the windows, plates emptying, telling stories and feeling happy. A classic ending, and I wouldn’t change a thing.

Great birds. Greater company. Slimbridge delivered once again—but it was the laughter, the shared awe, and the easy rhythm of friendship that really made the day sing.