We walked on the grass to try and silence our footfall but waterproof trousers swished anyway. "Where's Jeff?", I asked. "Gone behind the wall". "Look, there's some reeds ahead, I'll go in there with Raff; you stay in one of these cuts. If they come over you, you might be able to divert them to me or Jeff". "Cheers". Wet ground, matted grass on the bank, mud and weed below. Chilly! Half a dozen stones to sit on. Those should do. Balaclava to sit on; should have brought waterproof trousers. Old combat jacket round shoulders, telescope down wellington; they might see the chrome on it. Brrr! Hands under armpits, feet under bank. Sitting.
Dark wedge from left meets dark wedge from right; bridge must be over there. Less-dark water below, less-dark cloudy chill sky above with a moon-patch. Dark mud to water's edge. And the geese honk and chunner over away in front the right wedge. Well away. And, yes, some way up the estuary behind.
Silent birds pass over. Gulls? Ah, you can hear their wings beat. They're safe. Well within range though, especially as Jeff has BB's this morning.
A loner goose coming down the estuary; high-ish, over Jeff. Bang! Ah-ha. Missed! I sort of feel pleased. But look, above, gulls, disturbed by the shot. Coming up from the flats. Forty feet up, one layer, almost quiet and hundreds of them, like the pictures of the waves of bombers. Waves of gulls.
Cold here, and hard. Move left leg and dig heel in mud. It's been an hour and still the honking out there and the honking behind. And definitely dawn coming on. A grey world, trees across the flats on the left wedge hill, a gash of paleness along the sky rim. Must be east. Are those light patches geese? Could be, can't tell. Honking rises to a babbel. Are they coming? Head down, collar up. Don't move. Cold nose and toes. No. They're still there.
Grey lags, David said. Never seen one of those. Well, never identified one anyway. A few duck passing over, high up. Funny how the duck lose their attraction when the geese are in. Big geese. Magic. Strong, fast. Skeins above the skyline, flecks of black at a distance v-ing against the clouds. All the way from Greenland to share our winter and our cold mud flats.
They are coming now! Some of them. See them! Twenty or thirty. To me and Jeff. Poor old Dave. Low. Wide, wide V - a long arm over me. Dusky patches of darkness pushing through a grey SW sky. Geese coming at dawn. Coming. Christ, straight over Jeff!
Bang! Just once. (Both barrels together in fact). Going up the estuary. Identification parade at the cop shop. All in line. Which was it she's thinking. Does she know? It's all the same to me, I won't know why she picks him. He'll be just the same as any other as far as I can tell. What distinguishes him?
Bang. Just once. Half way down the short right arm one fell. The others closed the gap and forged on for the daytime pasture feeding.
They came up from the mud flats. Bang. Fell below my horizon. All the way from Greenland. What distinguishes him? Why him? A cold grey finger from Fate on a cold grey dawn. One goose down.
Arms under armpits. Left foot got pins and needles. Grass lighter now, autumn grey-green. Three gashes of paleness in the east. Growing. Reflected way out on the river. And there's the bridge, you can see its pillars.
I suppose we'll eat the goose. Only like eating beef; I think."