The King of the River

The Norfolk Broads, a watery wonderland that has to be one of my favourite places. At dawn and dusk it’s a magical wild world, that huge Norfolk sky reflected in the mirror still surface of the river, giving you the impression of being held suspended in an infinite space, immersed in the bluest sky, surrounded with glowing clouds.

So still and peaceful on the surface, but busy with the flow of life. It’s a place so rich in wildlife, around every corner there is something new to watch. A Marsh Harrier drifts across on steady wings, a White Owl hunts the meadow beyond, a splash comes from a jumping fish chased by the sleek Otter, a perfect, delicate Swallowtail Butterfly flutters from thistle to thistle at the waters edge. Piercing through this all, the piping whistle of the King of the River, often seen only in a flash of extravagant blue, so difficult to spot when perched still, waiting for the next little fish to swim by, but here he is sitting in front of me, calming bobbing his head, as I breathlessly squeeze the shutter. The Kingfisher.

 

 

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