There are parts of the British Landscape that seem to act as lodestones for the natural world, areas that for some reason appear to be hard-wired into the collective memory of migrating birds. Recently, while walking along one of the paths at Farlington Marshes, I was greeted by the sight of a swirling flock of Yellow Wagtails hopping and diving around the great mouths of a small group of cattle, as they picked at the insects that were being put up by the animals' indifferent tearing at the turf.