Fozzybear
Ich bin ein Vogelbeobachter
A wonderful, if damp, early morning walk yesterday here in mid-Essex took me through Great Baddow and southwards to Galleywood Common via the bridleways and farm footpaths east of Galleyend. A route I've walked many times in the past, though infrequently, it offers small spinneys, arable fields edged by hedges and rough margins and horse paddocks of short grass.
Skylarks sing quietly from the depths of the crops; rising high above the fields they circle in a swell of bewitching sound before renouncing the sky for the security of the ground again. Yellowhammers cast out their simple song from lone bushes, bringing a smile as I fix my gaze on their burnished yellow breast, glowing in the grey light. A great flock of Goldfinches tinkle softly as they flick down to the oilseed feast by a large oak, waves of birds rising from the forest of stalks as I walk by.
Beeches stand stoutly by twisted hornbeams in the spinney, spiky masts and leafy fruit showing the preparations for an autumn fast approaching; smooth, grey bark attracting the hand. In a paddock the horses stand in a far corner while five Hares, relaxed in the early morning hush, crop the tall seed-laden stems of grass. A bird calls an alarm as a Sparrowhawk slips silently overhead, quieting the calls of the small birds in the hedge.
Further along the track fresh brown earth betrays the night-time toil of the badgers; two tunnels fading into the waving canes, each surrounded by a fan of soil. Rain begins to fall; a soft, cool susurration. Two Ringlet butterflies take to the air briefly before returning to the safety of the weeds; too cold yet to brave the open air. At the common I stand amongst the heather and listen to the rain, a Labyrinth spider beside me bouncing in and out of its tunnel like a jack-in-the-box as raindrops strikes the web. I push through the gorse bushes and turn to the bridleway, heading north and homewards.
Some video of the Hares:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nqUOwOhSXKE
Skylarks sing quietly from the depths of the crops; rising high above the fields they circle in a swell of bewitching sound before renouncing the sky for the security of the ground again. Yellowhammers cast out their simple song from lone bushes, bringing a smile as I fix my gaze on their burnished yellow breast, glowing in the grey light. A great flock of Goldfinches tinkle softly as they flick down to the oilseed feast by a large oak, waves of birds rising from the forest of stalks as I walk by.
Beeches stand stoutly by twisted hornbeams in the spinney, spiky masts and leafy fruit showing the preparations for an autumn fast approaching; smooth, grey bark attracting the hand. In a paddock the horses stand in a far corner while five Hares, relaxed in the early morning hush, crop the tall seed-laden stems of grass. A bird calls an alarm as a Sparrowhawk slips silently overhead, quieting the calls of the small birds in the hedge.
Further along the track fresh brown earth betrays the night-time toil of the badgers; two tunnels fading into the waving canes, each surrounded by a fan of soil. Rain begins to fall; a soft, cool susurration. Two Ringlet butterflies take to the air briefly before returning to the safety of the weeds; too cold yet to brave the open air. At the common I stand amongst the heather and listen to the rain, a Labyrinth spider beside me bouncing in and out of its tunnel like a jack-in-the-box as raindrops strikes the web. I push through the gorse bushes and turn to the bridleway, heading north and homewards.
Some video of the Hares:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nqUOwOhSXKE
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