freezes avocet cries
A distinctively-patterned black and white wader with a long up-curved beak. It is the emblem of the RSPB and symbolises the bird protection movement in the UK more than any other species. Its return in the 1940s and subsequent increase in numbers represents one of the most successful conservation and protection projects. RSPB website
Oddly enough the Nazis helped bring back the bird, indiirectly:
They had been extinct in Britain for a long time because of land reclamation of their habitat and persecution by skin and egg collectors, but during or soon after World War II started breeding on reclaimed land near the Wash which was returned to salt marsh to make difficulties for any landing [Nazi] invaders. Wikipedia.
I found this an unusual layout upon first reading, but then could see the pivot when I reread it. As Alan has said, there is a great sense of atmosphere in this. Very stark with a biting wind whistling through it.
I love savouring poems like this one by Beth Partin. There is such richness in the layering of imagery and form. The stark second line, "the wind", in its brevity of course serves to arrest or "freeze" the flow of our reading. It also violates my expectations, prompting me to keep rereading and reconstruct a range of alternative images: the wind lifting sand across the mudflats, darkening slightly in the space above the ground; then the sound of those birdcries being chilled and muted; finally I realise in the process of this repeated reading Beth has reconstructed in my mind a dynamic scene with multiple avocets which have been calling back and forth across the landscape. Wonderful effects!
And the daily renga party called Tinywords is enhanced by the conversations and insights of such seasoned haiku companions as Alan and Marion, whose own observations always add to the pleasure of the meal.