Sidenote

Jo heard it first from the North hide at ten to five: a low, hollow note, three times, like someone blowing across the neck of a bottle. A bittern booming in November is unusual^{Note 1}, and it came from the reed bed west of the sluice, where the water stays open longest.

We stayed until the light went. The bird showed once, briefly, at the reed edge: streaked buff, neck stretched straight up, swaying with the stems until it was almost impossible to keep in the glass.

On the walk back along the sea wall a water rail squealed from the ditch^{Note 2}, and a barn owl crossed the saltings low enough to hear. We logged the bittern as rare and asked Priya to check the recording before it goes to the county.