WILD IN THE WYE
IT’S 4.30AM AND THE HEREFORDSHIRE DAWN HAS ARRIVED.
Far below me, the River Wye is a silver swathe through high-banked woods. The sky is soft and peach-coloured, the forest a dense, dark jade jungle. Through it all, filling the scene, is a crescendo of squawks, tweets and hoots. “Cup your ears,” says Ed Drewitt, as we face the natural amphitheatre in front of us. “What you’re hearing is the sound of hundreds of birds singing at the same time.”
I’ve met birdwatching guide and local resident Ed on Symonds Yat Rock, a 400ft-high outcrop of cliff-flanked limestone looming over the Wye Valley. On my last visit here, the viewing platform had been packed, but at this hour it’s empty — of humans, at least — and under Ed’s commentary, the wash of birdsong becomes an orchestra of identifiable parts: chiffchaff, firecrest, coal tit, nuthatch. And then something different. “Hear that?” he says, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “Peregrine.”
Within minutes his telescope is trained on the bird, resting on a rockface. I see a flecked breast, a black hood, pointed wingtips. The peregrine falcon is the world’s fastest bird, able to spot prey from a mile away — pity any wood pigeon in the wrong place at the wrong time. I watch the raptor while it scans the view as a citrus sun swells over the hills. On a morning like this it’s hard not to wish for wings of your own to unfurl.
