Every autumn, at Martin mere near Burscough in Lancashire, the skies fill with thousands of wings of birds who choose the protected wetlands at the wildfowl preserve for their roosting grounds. Geese, swans and ducks meander through the skies, catching a late afternoon’s light as silver on their wings

The whooping swans herald their arrival in their deep singsong of a foreign language.

As the sun sets, the birds take off on an unseen, unheard cue, felt by them who are in tune to the signals reserved for the wild, but the air now stirs with the vibration of a winged population.

The light’s brilliance lingers for a moment, caught in water and air.

The evening is infused with beauty, concocted by nature’s hand. The last birds arrive before the fading light. Honking and singing, silhouetted shapes land on coloured water.

As the ball’s orchestra gently glides into a softer song, matching the fading colours, now pastel and marbled, the birds settling down for the night.

And so, at times we happen upon an evening where magic kisses the air, is reflected in the water, carried by the wind and the streams of air and colour, a free flowing avian circus.