The curlew family are constantly moving their centre of gravity around the field. It is rare I see all four of them at once; they melt into the background as soon as they arrive. The word background is probably a misnomer, for it implies something passive, when in reality it is part of the dynamic of the coming and going. The breeze shaking the grasses creates plumes of pollen shed into the air. The adult curlew moves, shifting the locus and the chicks move with him, all the while pecking, pecking at invisible creatures. The two smaller ones constantly bumping into each other, the larger one off on his own. I can’t hear them, but I imagine the tiniest of calls, one to another, holding them together in an invisible web. Suddenly he flies off, leaving the chicks, and lands near a bluff nearby where his mate has been feeding all this time, quite unseen by me. The is a flurry of calls, a conversation and they swap over , it is her turn to fly back to provide the gravitational pull for their little family. I am relieved.