The Lake stretches glowing reflections of the Sun coming out of the bed while the Moon continuing delays on the firmament. Still asleep, I install open large tripod, then the 600mm on the small floating carriage made of three buoys hype assembled in triangle.
Slowly I approach the Reed bed. Usually discrete Grebe grebes activates short to feed the insatiable munchkins.
Embarrassed by the ripples my framing dance, I spend away from the language of gravel to regain a bit of stability. A Pochard ride her chickens and some crested grebes sleepy. The small Lagoon is crowded by young coot. Is this the reason for the crested grebes exodus or the gravel beach that years after year surrounds and suffocates the small Reed bed? I am particularly thinking many beachgoers that does not respect this exceptional area.
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