The sun won the tug-of-war and dragged me out into what, in truth for the first hour or so, was a tame scene where the wild had decided that, today, should be one of quiet reflection upon a sunny mossland which was almost still with but a few signs of life moving upon it.

A wander over to the north of the railway then flipped this idea upon its head as the call of the wild greeted me with a buzzard mewing its contact call. This brought in the attention of a few carrion crow which are always irked by the presence of almost anything but themselves. A wren chuntered on as if aggrieved by my passing by its personal tumble of bramble and bracken.

The Wild was about, it’s just that I had needed to go search upon the northern moss. A skein of pink footed geese called from on high but my wild searching of a sky of blue revealed nothing but their contact calls as they passed me by heading west.

The next three skeins of these Icelandic wanderers did register on my retina, but only just, as they were in a high flying mode, rushing west in a hurry to make the most of such brilliant weather conditions.

A nuthatch then distracted me from my blue sky-gazing, as it called from cover, another moment when the sound of the Wild beat my camera to it. Worry not, my camera has archive pics.

Yes, it was time to return home but now on re-crossing the railway line it seemed that the Wild had decided to slow my progress as it offered a flock or two to pause my steps homeward. Redwing, starling and chaffinch were added to day seven wild list, then that delayed cuppa was finally reached.