Wrens, seven of them. This happened at the end of the walk, as the sun was setting. I didn't realize wrens roosted communally until this sighting, I'd only ever seen a solitary wren proclaiming its territory from within a hedge or from the branch of a tree. And the song was different, less shouty, just fast chirping as acknowledgement. I stood real close to these seven wrens, real still, for ages. They may have been the confusion species (juvenile i.e. uncapped) Goldcrests, but they looked like wrens to me.
Nothing much during the walk, save for the occasional jogger and lots of inquisitive flying bugs. It was very peaceful and quiet, tranquil, settling.
At the start of the walk, a deaf and blind old hare crawled into a clearing right beside me, its back arched high. I froze on the spot. This thing was massive. And it must have been deaf and blind because I'm not that quiet when I'm walking. It came out into the clearing, scratched around. I even three-clicked at it but it didn't mind, just scratched around, looked around, looked right at me, scratched around some more before wandering off, looking for something to eat.
