May 11th – On the Walsall Canal, despite the grim weather, life was continuing as normal. There are coot chicks in abundance, and I’ve been savouring the excellent description of them by Phil Griffin as ‘looking like badly knitted moorhens’ – they certainly are odd little things. 

There was blossom aplenty from lilac and ornamental cherry, and the heron paused in it’s preening to look crossly at me, as if I’d broken it’s train of thought. 

All of this in a 50 metre stretch of canal in the centre of urban Walsall.