Eight o’clock on the first Monday morning in March, bright blue sky. I cross the bridge over the Quaggy with the pavilion behind me. Most of the park seems to be deserted apart from a few scattered dog walkers and a hurrying commuter. But here as I swing left along the edge of the stream it’s positively crowded. The sodden banks on both sides of the water are full of scurrying small thrush-like birds with rusty red stains on their sides and white streaks over their eyes. It’s a flock of Redwings. They’ve been hanging out here for weeks. We should be proud. These birds have traveled thousands of miles to spend the winter visiting our park from the northern wastes of Scandinavia. It’s an exciting feeling getting this little glimpse of wilderness on an early spring morning.