The spot for the night. A tower overlocking a small wetland area.
Dinner, chicken pasta. The boars roaming the area had digged
up a convenient fire pit..
Coffee in the tower.. Getting boiling water up there was, well..tricky..
Then it was just a matter of enjoying the show.. I know very
little about wetland bird or what they are called but i find them entertaining
nevertheless.. Trough the night there was the low droning, humming sound
with the occasional burst of loud quacking when some fowl over stepped the territorial
boundries or when some late night arrivals disturbed the fragile peace..
Later in the night a owl started calling so I called back, we kept going back and forth
for a while and then he got quiet, so I sit up and peer out in the dark and thats when i hear a scraping sound on the ledge of the tower, as I turn my head and see a owl take off..
I Sleept really well. During the morning a small bird kept landing on
my sleeping bag chirping away, maybe he was looking for crumbs.
First night with out the bivybag and it was
to warm, had to sleep with the bag unzipped.
Mr Beaver's work.. Would be cool to meet him in person,
Maybe next time..