After a week with flu, I’m yearning for the outdoors. As it is, the dark clouds and close air make for an ominous atmosphere – but what I’m here for is hopeful and joyous. I’m at Hengistbury Head, a popular nature reserve in Bournemouth, to co-lead a youth bird walk for the British Trust for Ornithology. A group of young people aged 18-25 gather and chat, joined by experts Chris and David from the Christchurch Harbour Ornithological Group. Shortly after setting off, we pause to gaze at grazing flocks of wigeon and brent geese on the other side of the harbour. Closer, a crimson-legged redshank offers great views as it forages. Our group gains attention from passersby, inquisitive about what we are looking at. Our route is a straight path leading to a sand spit, with views of mudflats on the way. A bird hide offers a welcome retreat from the wind. Brambles become a stage for rivals to shout the most impressive song, with dunnocks and robins squabbling for the best spot. In mixed woodland we observe a gentle but acrobatic goldcrest. Off in the distance, a small flock of lapwing, which eventually land on the water’s edge. They are joined by several bar-tailed godwit – a species I haven’t seen this year yet, so a real treat for me. Hidden in the rushes, a lone curlew, and on the shingle in front of us a grey, streaky rock pipit pecks at tiny invertebrates. Iridescent starlings join us for lunch on the beach, as a light drizzle sweeps down. The biggest ripples of excitement among the group are saved for the end of the walk: an unexpected grey seal, poking its head above the choppy waves, and two great crested grebes in breeding plumage. They are rested upon the waves, with windswept black tufts and a flash of amber. I’m more familiar with seeing these striking birds on smaller bodies of water where, as we ease into spring, pairs will begin their famous courtship dance, copying each other’s movements and gifting clumps of pond weed. How very romantic!