A Bar- Tailed Godwit

Sunday 12th September

Day 144

We take it in turns to look through the binoculars at the bird. It’s standing quite still on stately legs in the middle of a small grassy island surrounded by a flooded meadow. It has a long curved beak and streaked creamy brown feathers. It’s distinctive, one of a kind among the ducks and seagulls. The desire to identify it draws us into the bird hide where posters of all the varieties of birds you might see at this sanctuary are pinned up inside the wooden slatted walls.

‘It’s a Plover.’

‘No, I think it’s a Curlew.’

‘It could be a Sandpiper.’

We point and try to match our bird in the sunshine with the drawings on the paper. We can’t agree.

I want it to be a Bar -Tailed Godwit because I love the name. And I’ve never heard it before. I wonder why naming things gives them an identity and gives me a sense of belonging to a wider world.

And not being able to name things is like not recognising the taste of parmesan cheese or honey even though it’s on the tip of your tongue.