The route back from Portbury Wharf salt marsh takes me through the new Marina. It is a thriving area, for people at least, with posh apartments overlooking the estuary. Next to the path is a sea of boulders, piled three high in places. This hard landscaping is no place for wildlife, or is it?
As I walked past the boulders a scribbled, ribbon of fur darted out in front of me. In an instant it had run back into a tiny crevice. It was such a fleeting glimpse that I wasn’t sure what I had seen. Was it a stoat or was it a weasel?
It was small but was it weasel small? Had I seen a black-tipped stoat-like tail? I hadn’t noticed one. Thirty seconds later a head poked out from between the boulders. It was a grand sight though still its tell-tale tail was not visible.
Perhaps I can never be sure what I had seen. Though now I walk a bit slower as I pass the sea of boulders just in case . . .
