Fowl play

‘BIRDS AREN’T EVEN THAT GOOD!’ announced the graffiti inside a bird hide in Cumbria. I peeked out the window. There were no birds. The rain was pelting down. The sky was darkening. A huge storm was brewing. Instead of risking my tent being blown to pieces I’d opted for solid walls, and mercifully found the hide open. Sometimes they’re locked to keep the vagabonds like me out.