Two Greylag goslings peer attentively up at their mother. A third looks towards me as I make my way, as unobtrusively as possible, along the grassy bank. Mum knows that a dyke, filled with water, separates her from human interference. She focuses her gaze on the waterway ahead, deems it safe to proceed, and leads her brood out - swimming at the head of a family 'V' formation.
Birdsong fills the air. Sharp peeps and melodious trills mingle with the honk of geese.
A coot scuttles busily in and out of the reeds, turning this way and that. In perpetual motion.
The Dijkmanshuizen is a reclaimed area, separated from the waters of the Waddenzee by a high sea wall. The earth rampart keeps the water at bay but residual sea salt lingers on in the soil.
Where the sun bakes the ground a white grainy crust, like snowfall, reveals itself. A pied Avocet stands one legged, at rest, back toward me and oblivious to my presence, surveying the ripples on the slowly evaporating salt pan.
Above me, black beaked carrion crows nuzzle affectionately in the bare branches of a dead tree. The action seemingly at odds with the dark demeanor of the setting and the battlefield reputation of the bird. One gives a long rasping cry, momentarily darkening the day.
Beneath the tree the bright heads of wild flowers spangle the green carpet of wild grasses. They brush at my calves as I walk. The sun beams down benignly. I pause for a picnic and listen to the music of the birds.
Back in port, the wind has shifted into the west. It is time to ready Stargazer to leave on tomorrow's tide.
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