Sunday 3rd April (Will she, Wont she)

Mr. Kite looked out of his bedroom window and noticed that leaves are beginning to appear on the Lime trees growing by the roadside.  A few buds have sprouted their leaves and these are unfolded slowly and carefully; and not quite flat; they are still curled.

Today Mr. Kite planned a cycle ride up and down a few hills. So Mr. Kite set out towards the west in the direction of the Stiperstones but he noticed big grey clouds bubbling up over them. After being fooled by the weatherman on Friday, April Fools day, Mr. Kite was not going to take a chance and cycle miles only to rained upon. So he changed course and headed for Longnor Bridge.

Cycling slowly along into the wind the aging Mr. Kite was overtaken by five 'boy racing cyclist' wearing team colours. Now Mr. Kite likes a challenge so he pedaled quickly and joined the peleton for two miles before being dropped on the climb out of Cantlop Bridge.

Now Mr. Kite was going to Longnor Bridge to see a bird that can often be seen there. This bird is very pretty and obliging; a real sport that allows you to watch her. As Mr. Kite cycled along he wondered will she be there or wont she be there. Mr. Kite heart beat increased as he approached the bridge; to be let down by a bird is so disappointing and not good for the ego.

Mr. Kite slowly approached the bridge and peeped over the parapet; and there she was the Dipper, the Water Ousel, the Waterhen or Water Blackbird. Sitting on a log she was preening herself for the admiring Mr. Kite. Her straight slim beak was grooming her brown belly and black-brown wings and back. Bobbing about as she plucked and pulled her feathers she looked in shape like a Wren and the size of a Blackbird. Her dazzling white breast bib extended to her beck and contrasted with her chestnut brown head. The Dipper had strong black legs; so strong in fact that she only stood on one at a time. For twenty five minutes the Water Blackbird put every feather in place. Occasionally she would call but this was drowned out by the babbling brook. Looking perfect she fluttered away to another admirer; and Mr. Kite went home before the rain started.

Mr. Kite cycled along slowly with a tail wind and noticed that this year he had rode The Beast for more than one thousand miles. So after meeting a pretty bird Mr. Kite went home to quaff a tipple of bath ales Gem amber ale. Cheers from a satisfied Mr. Kite.