“I come from haunt of coot and hern” (Tennyson)

Alfred Tennyson’s line comes to me again and agin on the river.  Although he was ‘speaking’ as a babbling brook, I find the line babbling in my mind and from my lips incessantly as I see the Thames birdlife.

I eventually realised that a ‘hern’ is a heron, so here are  …….

….. my coot

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and my hern

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