It’s a noisy today with the clatter of farm machinery, the see-sawing of the great tit and the strange rhythmic call of a partridge. But cutting through them all is the extraordinary song of the first curlew bringing the land alive on this frosty morning; singing the rushes, the wetness, the bog and the blueness of this sky into being. A cold breeze strikes my right cheek, whilst that song, emitted from the bird’s long curved beak, scythes into my heart, with melancholy and joy all at once. A sound that echoes all the losses of the world, whilst bringing life and vitality to the land.