Back at the lake for the first time in more than a week, and there are birds spread out everywhere. The first thing I notice is the high, melodious sound of the reed warbler; though I can’t see him, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him warble so much. In the centre of the lake a swan is pulling up grass surrounded by coots; the water where they are seems a slightly darker colour, and circular—it seems like it is a real centre today, with a kind of centre of lake gravity, with much movement or birds and water. Elsewhere, there are other coots spread. Shelducks. Pink ears. A hardhead diving down. And then, from across the other side of the lake, very low and rapidly approaching, comes something with a small wingspan, though not flapping but rather gliding and tilting as it goes; it shoots past a little grebe, which ducks under water, by the edge of the reeds in front of us—reeds all top heavy with seed—then tears off to one side and disappears. As it passes by I start to think it is a raptor of some kind, maybe a kestrel or hobby. No other bird seems to feel threatened, or maybe even notices. It was such a brief, sharp flash.