Fin and I are standing at the south end of the lake, between fig trees. The wind is northerly. It’s a clear sky above with some stratus to the north that will increase rapidly—grey above by mid morning and rain by the middle of the day. But we’re here now, with the usual ducks and other customers. Then all of a sudden, scattering from the shore of the south east corner and from the norther part of the lake—whole clouds of birds lift off. I look for the cause of all this, and see the long, slow, orange wingspan and fingered feathers on wing edges of what I assume is a swamp harrier. He glides and flaps slowly, yet somewhat awkwardly, like a big jumbo coming into land. He’s not high though, but level with the other birds, flying just past the middle of the like, slightly on the western side. He seems close to a cloud of ducks—mostly teals I suppose—but he doesn’t give chase to any. There are also no seagulls to give chase to him today, and no koolbardie magpies close by. It is wardong the crow that harasses the harrier this time. He seeks refuge in a small clump of reeds usually frequented by some warblers on the eastern edge. But when he takes off again the crows are at him. He flies further north, and awkwardly alights where the ibis roost—a couple move off and give him space. The crows back away, until he takes off again, and then they’re at him once more. And then we lose him and the whole company as they head further north.