It was a morning of fresh sunshine and a chilly breeze, that day defined in The Meaning of Liff as ‘Brithdir – The first day of the winter on which your breath condenses in the air.’ There had been the first faint frost as I pedalled out this morning, pulling on thick gloves and feeling the pinch of cold on my nose. The year was drawing down. The season’s early fieldfares flew over the fields, a flight pattern of several wing beats, then a quick glide, eager to forage on the abundant haw- thorn berries. Fieldfares look like thrushes but stand taller, move in big hops, and spend the winter in flocks of hundreds. 

Reading about fieldfares led me down a Twitter rabbit hole via the #vismig hashtag, of which I’d never heard. Visible migration (which I’d never heard of either) is the ‘visible’ migration of birds and butterflies during daylight. Many other species migrate at night (#nocmig), which 

is harder to monitor unless flocks reach the coast at dawn, an event known as ‘falls’. We learnt a lot about nocturnal migrations when radar was invented in the First World War. All those birds could now be observed for the first time, showing up on radar screens as ‘phantoms’ or ‘angels’ flying through the dark skies in silent flocks. 

I climbed a steep hillside to enjoy a misty, pale view westwards over miles of woodland and villages. I rested on a bench, poured a cup of coffee from my flask, and gazed out over a landscape that felt far more like home than it had done twelve months ago.