4 October 2025

The darkness has not dissipated when I start walking in the early morning. I could hear the robin’s song but couldn’t see the singer. Did he follow me on my way to the East Sands? I certainly heard him again walking  nearer the shoreline. The student with the hear-phones certainly missed this joy.

I spotted a heron crouching on a high stone wall by the Kinnessburn. I have never seen such a sight before. The heron has always been either in the water fishing or in flight escaping. ‘The heron is quite lonely.’ said an old woman passing by. ‘You never see the heron in a  pair.’

That’s true. There are always ducks and drakes in the burn and we often see a pair of moorhens swimming in the same area of water but not the heron. It didn’t budge even in our presence. It raised its head, stretched its neck to its full height and then … it flew off. ‘It makes a lovely start to the day.’ she concluded.

An old man walking two dogs in the  woodland replied to my  greeting, ‘I’m fine, except for my head.’ I replied. ‘What’s wrong?’ he smiled. ‘The squirrels keep on dropping conkers on it!’  There were many opened chestnut shells on the pathway and I had already harvested  the contents which had bounced off his head but not mine!

By the time I got to the East Sands, the sun was rising gloriously. Some young people were taking photographs. Six surfers were on the crest of a wave and four women had just entered the chilly waters for Nature’s embrace and their  key to awaken the brain.

I walked on. The swimmers’ courage and the surfers’ failure in their inevitable descent  gave food for thought. Courage and the resilience were lessons for the day. But the vision of the squirrel dropping chestnuts on my friend's head  and the  heron’s embrace of human loneliness brought laughter and comfort in equal measure.