Firebirds

I liked the way that the sun has caught the wings of these cormorant - See them bigger and more fiery here.
Today I went out after kingfishers - set my hide up, stuck a stick into the bank for a perch and waited.
The water was quite high, due to the rain we had yesterday.
I saw 4 kingfishers, a little to far for a pic, but great to see them fishing through the binoculars.
After 3 hours and no decent shot, my feet felt a little cold, despite that fact that the sun was shining - sitting around doing nothing much I though.
After 30 minutes I decided to give up, pack the hide into the are and have a walk around the lakes to see what was around.
As I emerged from the hide, I realized why my feet felt cold - they were soaking wet - the river had risen so that I was sitting in about 8 cm of water - the bottom of the hide was soaked.

So, packed up and threw it in the car and had a look around the lakes, I saw the two buzzards in their usual place - it may be worth a stakeout later - lots of heron and egrets.
Today was a public holiday in France for 11 November.
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The poem 'The Soldier' by Rupert Brooke (3 August 1887 – 23 April 1915) was written in 1914 and is part of a series of poems entitles '1914'.
W.B. Yeats described him as "the handsomest young man in England."
Brooke sailed with the British Mediterranean Expeditionary Force on 28 February 1915 but developed sepsis from an infected mosquito bite.
He died at 4:46 pm on 23 April 1915 in a French hospital ship moored in a bay off the island of Skyros (where he is buried) in the Aegean on his way to the landing at Gallipoli.
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The Soldier
Rupert Brooke

If I should die, think only this of me:
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,
Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.

And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven.
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