The Christmas market doesn’t know what’s hit it. At 8.30 on a mid-November morning, Exeter is a whirl of white, a city half-blinded by tumbling flakes. Market workers, caught out by this overly authentic addition to the festive decor, are busy shovelling the ground in front of the bao stalls and craft gin chalets. Above them, the cathedral’s medieval towers stand tall and cold in the heaven-filling flurry. Winter has arrived in Devon with bells on.
I’m here to catch a train to see some birdlife. A breakfast blizzard wasn’t part of the plan, but sometimes these things don’t go as expected. The city’s Queen Street has turned into a real-life snow globe, yet the little two-carriage train I’m catching trundles into Exeter Central bang on time. I find a window seat and settle in. Snowy rooftops roll by. Somewhere, an estuary lies in wait.
The Avocet Line runs between Exeter and Exmouth, a scenic 11-mile stretch of track that hugs the shoreline of the Exe estuary. The estuary is a fine spectacle in any season, more than a mile across at its widest point and stretching for eight miles. It’s sheltered by hills, lined by sandbars, and dotted with shipwrecks. In winter, it’s home to more than 20,000 migratory birds that feed on the nutrient-rich mudflats. Each cubic meter of mud is said to provide the same energy as 14 Mars bars. The majority of these birds are seasonal migrants, drawn to the estuary from their northern breeding grounds.
The train ride offers glimpses of the estuary’s wonders. By Exmouth, things are markedly brighter, with rain spotting the sky and the waters lapping at the tide walls. A flock of overwintering dunlin banks and turns above the water, creating a stunning display. On arrival, I join Jake Stuart, who is skippering a 75-minute sailing around the estuary. His family has been running Stuart Line Cruises for three generations. Passengers sip mince pies and whisky-laced hot chocolates as the boat glides through the estuary’s calm waters.
“Right now, most of the birds are roosting,” Jake says over the PA. “They’ll appear at low tide to feed.” As the boat continues, the estuary’s big skies and green hues transport me out of the digital age, offering a simpler, slower pace of life. There are castles on the foreshore, boats in the harbors, and oystercatchers on the sandbanks. But the day’s truest joys are still to come.
After the cruise, I head to Exmouth’s Imperial Recreation Ground to watch the tide ebb and the brent geese appear. With a portion of salt-laced chips in hand, I enjoy the fresh air and views towards Torquay. Then, I catch the train back north, where the estuary shallows are alive with feeders: slow-stepping little egrets, turnstones, and a lone heron. At Topsham, I start walking, heading toward RSPB Bowling Green Marsh. This area, once a bustling port, is now home to centuries-old pubs and a peaceful nature reserve.
A 15-minute stroll brings me to a hide overlooking a reedy pool full of wigeons, teals, and shelducks. Their chestnut, green, and yellow feathers are aflame in the afternoon sun. I follow local advice to head to the Goat Walk, a raised walkway above the mudflats, where I stay until dusk, watching the winter feeders. Redshanks nibble as they stride above their own reflections, bar-tailed godwits plunge into the mud, and 30 avocets sweep the mud with upturned bills. The low-tide estuary is stirring with birds, tiny glowing silhouettes scattered across the landscape.
As the sun sets, the estuary comes alive with the sounds of birds gathering to roost. It’s a sight to behold, a true winter marvel. The day’s journey, for just £6.40, has taken me on a remarkable adventure, filled with stunning views and unforgettable moments.
