A beautiful morning in Norfolk: the high tide had been early and before dawn all the wading birds had been washed off the mud by the incoming flood. In the early morning light they gathered to roost in huge flocks along the beach at Snettisham, waiting for the tide to ebb. Occasionally, and often as a raptor appeared, they took to the air and danced in unison forming swirling clouds of rapidly beating wings. As they swirled the flocks twisted and turned revealing alternatively their light breasts and darker backs. The sights and sounds were spectacular.