Over the last few weeks many birds have come home. Birds that were born here last year, and the rest of their family, have returned.

Now I can’t prove a thing, but I have this feeling that the Whitethroat singing from a brambly patch has sung from there before, or maybe it was born there and is rejoicing in having found its way back.

It’s the same for all the birds that come to nest in the marsh. I think. There’s something familiar going on.

There’s a tiny patch of reeds on one side of the railway line and every year Reed warblers nest there.

They’ve been singing for the last few weeks while they build their nest. I’m sure they are the same birds as last year. All around them for the last few months the world has been changing. But here is the one spot that’s the same. More or less.

It doesn’t look like much to us, but it must be very reassuring to be home. They definitely didn’t come here by chance. But without a map? From here to somewhere in Africa?

I mean, come on, that’s incredible isn’t it?

On their travels they’ve faced immense challenges and not all of them make it back. Those challenges grow each year.

Storms. Bigger and wilder storms.

And farms. Bigger and, er, bigger farms. There’s little enough for them to eat where we get our food.

And droughts, and pollution, and cities.

Oh god. The more you know the worse it is.

So the thing we’re doing? Looking after their home. You know the marsh might be the only place they go where anybody does that.

On the marsh the habitat has slowly improved. The once grazed and dry meadows have become wild and wet, providing a habitat that is perfect for them to breed.

Even so the dawn chorus, a fine indication of the number of birds establishing territories is a bit disappointing.

That chorus is nowhere near as spectacular as it was just a few years ago. If you hear it now for the first time it’s pretty amazing. But it can be a bit depressing comparing it to the not so distant past.

It’s almost out of desperation. When you know just how bad it is, it’s easy to feel helpless.

And we know this is the same everywhere. It’s as if everything is beginning to collapse.

For our little corner of river valley the simplest thing to do is to stop the marsh drying out. And we have. Oh boy, you would not believe how soggy the ground is.

Just a quarter of a mile up stream you can just about get through with trainers. Our marsh? You can just about get through with wellies. Sloshing through deep water where it should be dry makes me giggle. All those days mucking about with sandbags has had such an impact.

It’s a bit like that youngster finding a hole in a dyke on their way home from school. We’re try stop this water with desperate measures but it really is working.

I don’t know if the Reed warblers will make it back next year, with their young, but if they do that little patch of reeds will be a bit bigger. But I know it’s a lot more than Reed warblers. A whole lot more.