Stewart J.
Well-known member
Entertaining and very amusing read Alan, look forward to next episode.
ATB
Stewart
ATB
Stewart
-
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Mouldy's Kingdom (Diary of a frustrated birder) (1 Viewer)
- Thread starter Mouldy
- Start date
Mouldy
skywatcher, dragonhunter
An incident today just made me glow inside.
I walked my eldest son ( he’s only three and a half) down to nursery as per usual today, they were having a red kite day at school so all the kids were out in the playground dressed in red rather than the usual purple uniform.
As we walked past the noisy playground some kids started shrieking and pointing skywards, I looked up to see a red kite hanging in the wind maybe just 50 feet above the melee.
I was amazed to see just about every child stop in their tracks, some pointing skywards, some waving at the kite, and all with beaming smiles on their faces as they gawped at the bird, which seemed just as curious at what was going on below and stuck around for a good few seconds before allowing the strong wind to carry it off sideways, leaving the kids to get back to their games.
Just a brief moment of spontaneity but a fine illustration of how the kites have captured the imagination and hearts of the local children.
Brought a smile to my face anyhow.
(Also posted on Northern Kites thread in Birds of Prey)
I walked my eldest son ( he’s only three and a half) down to nursery as per usual today, they were having a red kite day at school so all the kids were out in the playground dressed in red rather than the usual purple uniform.
As we walked past the noisy playground some kids started shrieking and pointing skywards, I looked up to see a red kite hanging in the wind maybe just 50 feet above the melee.
I was amazed to see just about every child stop in their tracks, some pointing skywards, some waving at the kite, and all with beaming smiles on their faces as they gawped at the bird, which seemed just as curious at what was going on below and stuck around for a good few seconds before allowing the strong wind to carry it off sideways, leaving the kids to get back to their games.
Just a brief moment of spontaneity but a fine illustration of how the kites have captured the imagination and hearts of the local children.
Brought a smile to my face anyhow.
(Also posted on Northern Kites thread in Birds of Prey)
will@bill
FATHER AND SON TEAM
hopefully a few future birders in the playground:t:
Mouldy
skywatcher, dragonhunter
Dammit Will, you’ve blown my cover. International Man of Mystery no more, just plain old ‘binocular face’ as I’m known round here.
Actually that‘s not far from the truth, the sad thing is, whenever we’re watching a nature prog on telly and see a bloke with a pair of bins to his face, my little lad always pipes up “There’s daddy” (even if it’s Bill Oddie, which is worrying).
Another birding-free weekend, amusing incident this morning though. Hanging the washing out I heard the angry squawks of black-headed gulls so looked up to see three of them fighting over a food item. No idea what it was but when one gull dropped it another tried to catch it but only succeeded in throwing it up in the air again, this happened again and again and with the gulls also trying to barge each other out of the way it was like one of those fumbles in American Football when the ball is loose and everyone dives on it but it keeps squirting out ‘til it becomes farcical (only in mid-air). Very amusing game of 'pass the morsel' I thought but I suppose you had to be there…..
Mouldy
skywatcher, dragonhunter
Shaggy dog story
Have posted this on another thread but it's amusing enough to repeat here (though exasperating at the same time):
The Northern Kites Project has spent a lot of time and effort trying to educate the populace round here about the relative gentleness of the kites with them being very conspicuous large birds of prey and released so close to populated areas, but if people don’t want to listen there’s not much you can do.
A prime example was the other day, I was talking with a local shop owner in the village about the kites and a woman in the shop piped up saying she was frightened to take her dog for a walk on one of the nearby greens because there were always kites circling overhead. I explained that the kites would only be looking for carrion or really small animals and that there was nothing to worry about, then enquired as to what breed her dog was.
She said “German shepherd”
The mind boggles. :eek!:
Have posted this on another thread but it's amusing enough to repeat here (though exasperating at the same time):
The Northern Kites Project has spent a lot of time and effort trying to educate the populace round here about the relative gentleness of the kites with them being very conspicuous large birds of prey and released so close to populated areas, but if people don’t want to listen there’s not much you can do.
A prime example was the other day, I was talking with a local shop owner in the village about the kites and a woman in the shop piped up saying she was frightened to take her dog for a walk on one of the nearby greens because there were always kites circling overhead. I explained that the kites would only be looking for carrion or really small animals and that there was nothing to worry about, then enquired as to what breed her dog was.
She said “German shepherd”
The mind boggles. :eek!:
Mouldy
skywatcher, dragonhunter
Managed a couple of hours out on the bike today as it was bright but rather nippy morning. I cycled along the Derwent Walk to the viaduct then followed the river path round to the lake (pond) in the park.
Unfortunately the world and his wife seemed to have the same idea, cyclists, dog walkers and many a family group all enjoying the walk in their own way, but consequently there was very little bird life to be seen along the river, though several small parties of siskin and redwing were noted and a squadron of c30 fieldfare headed up the valley at one point. Jays were pretty conspicuous too as they ferried their acorns about and it was nice to get a look at a few robins and wrens now the trees are less covered.
A couple of red kites by the viaduct and one further downstream were all I could see, but the valley was looking splendid in it’s autumn colours so I took a few photos for future artistic reference and have posted a few here for your pleasure.
That’s about it really, not a great deal to report but I was just happy to get out into the great outdoors for a short while.
Unfortunately the world and his wife seemed to have the same idea, cyclists, dog walkers and many a family group all enjoying the walk in their own way, but consequently there was very little bird life to be seen along the river, though several small parties of siskin and redwing were noted and a squadron of c30 fieldfare headed up the valley at one point. Jays were pretty conspicuous too as they ferried their acorns about and it was nice to get a look at a few robins and wrens now the trees are less covered.
A couple of red kites by the viaduct and one further downstream were all I could see, but the valley was looking splendid in it’s autumn colours so I took a few photos for future artistic reference and have posted a few here for your pleasure.
That’s about it really, not a great deal to report but I was just happy to get out into the great outdoors for a short while.
Attachments
Mouldy
skywatcher, dragonhunter
Autumnwatch
…and talking of otters, on Autumnwatch on Thursday night they showed a snippet of otters by night in Newcastle, showing some footage from the Gateshead side of the Tyne at the top end of my patch. A train was seen passing over a small bridge, I’m sure that was actually where the river Derwent flows into the Tyne just west of the Metrocentre, (it was dark but I’ll check the features next time I’m along ) it’s tidal there and the filming was obviously done at low tide when there is much exposed mud on either side of the river.
I’ve often found tracks in the low tide mud in the area but it’s two years since I actually had a sighting, (though they are quite regularly reported by other lucky observers) and that was much further upstream in the Derwent (see pics from Oct 2006) There are said to be two families on our stretch of the river fathered by the old dog which is pictured, told by a very distinctive pink patch by his nose.
Anyhow I’ll never forget my first otter sighting back in 2005, a very dramatic story worth repeating so I’ll dredge my archive notes and post it, watch this space as they say……..
…and talking of otters, on Autumnwatch on Thursday night they showed a snippet of otters by night in Newcastle, showing some footage from the Gateshead side of the Tyne at the top end of my patch. A train was seen passing over a small bridge, I’m sure that was actually where the river Derwent flows into the Tyne just west of the Metrocentre, (it was dark but I’ll check the features next time I’m along ) it’s tidal there and the filming was obviously done at low tide when there is much exposed mud on either side of the river.
I’ve often found tracks in the low tide mud in the area but it’s two years since I actually had a sighting, (though they are quite regularly reported by other lucky observers) and that was much further upstream in the Derwent (see pics from Oct 2006) There are said to be two families on our stretch of the river fathered by the old dog which is pictured, told by a very distinctive pink patch by his nose.
Anyhow I’ll never forget my first otter sighting back in 2005, a very dramatic story worth repeating so I’ll dredge my archive notes and post it, watch this space as they say……..
Attachments
Moraybirdlover
Well-known member
Lovely autumn photos.
Was the otter father's nose pink due to an injury? I am looking forward to your otter installment.
I spent a week last year on Skye looking but didn't get a glimpse of an one! Lots of otter shaped rocks though!!
Was the otter father's nose pink due to an injury? I am looking forward to your otter installment.
I spent a week last year on Skye looking but didn't get a glimpse of an one! Lots of otter shaped rocks though!!
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Mouldy
skywatcher, dragonhunter
The pink marking is quite possibly a scar of some sort but couldn't say for sure.
I had a week on Skye a couple of years back, no otters for me either, lots of seals (which actually looked like rocks) and some class birds though, a WT sea eagle being the star.
Mouldy
skywatcher, dragonhunter
Close encounter of the otter kind
Bit of a marathon this one but I'll probably never witness another scene like it, memorable in more ways than one.
June 1 2005
‘A regular visitor to Far Pasture ponds I'm getting a bit tired of reading the log and finding I've just missed an otter by an hour or so, yesterday being the third day out of four.
Desperate to see a wild otter I decide today is the day so off I go, early afternoon seems to be the best time according to the logbook so I get there shortly before noon, set to stay as long as it takes. I open a couple of windows and watch uncountable numbers of house martins and swifts with a smattering of sand martins and swallows, feasting on airborne insects in the steady but light rain.
Only a few minutes have passed when I hear a loud plop! from the left hand pond as if something had just dropped in without making a splash. Turning quickly I see and follow a trail of bubbles into open water.
I dare hope it’s the tell tale sign I’m looking for and sure enough, up pops the dark and rather flat-topped head of a good-sized mammal, turning towards me to reveal the unmistakeable features of one wild otter (Cue one of those Wow! moments as I gaze transfixed through binoculars from the hide).
I watch it swim back and forth for a short while then it makes its way to the rear of the pond, disappearing behind the jutting reeds and unfortunately out of sight. Slightly disappointed, I lower my binoculars but thinking philosophically if that was that, I don't care, at long last I've got my otter.
I scan the far end of the pond again but there is no sign, so I turn my attention to a couple of obliging reed buntings close by.
Just minutes later though, I catch sight of it as it comes out into the open again, distant and moving right to left at the rear of the pond then starts to make it’s way, half hidden, through the vegetation by the left bank. It eventually emerges into open water and I can't believe my eyes, it now has a cub with it and they are swimming towards me. Out of the water they come, and leaving the cub crouched by the small brick dam, the adult ( presumed mother) scrambles up the bank in front of the hide where I am sitting motionless, and amazingly I’m now less than four feet away from a wild otter separated only by an open window.
This is more than I could ever have hoped, an absolute belter of a view of this magnificent animal, now sitting up on hind legs, sniffing the air and looking all around, open-mouthed and still seemingly oblivious to my presence. It backs off a little and I can’t resist the urge to get some photos of this memorable occasion. Slowly I raise my camera, but I forget how loud it can be to the acute hearing of a wild animal and the electronic noise through the open window only serves to alert the mother and she quickly scampers back down to her cub.
I’m annoyed with myself, too eager to get photos I’ve spoilt an unbelievable experience, and thinking I’ve scared them off I chastise myself, but no, mother and cub swim the stream left to right from the small brick dam, up overland spooking a dozing moorhen in the process and into the right hand pond, still giving marvellous views.
Moving slowly and quietly around the hide I once again settle into position, but the serenity of this unforgettable scene is suddenly shattered as one of the resident pair of mute swans, seeing the otters from the far end of the pond, suddenly breaks away from its brood and runs at full pelt across the surface of the water in their direction, hissing loudly, wings beating rapidly and making an almighty din.
I don't know what to expect, it isn't taking off, it isn’t slowing down, everything in the vicinity, moorhens, coots, mallards, all scatter and the swan slams into the otters in the shallows in front of the hide and frenziedly starts stamping and gouging with its feet, hissing and flapping it’s wings ferociously in what has become a quite frightening scene. I’m totally stunned, I can see the otters in the water directly under the flailing feet of the swan and just watch in horror as the attack continues.
It is a very vicious, sustained attack and very worrying, I fear for the life of the young cub. No doubt the mother could escape easily but has to protect her cub which I believe the swan is attempting to drown. I hold my breath for what seems like an age, the swan is still in a frenzy of noise and violence and I can no longer see the otters, until at last mother otter scrambles up out of the water just a yard or so behind the swan, with cub in mouth, as the swan continues to beat the water in it’s frenzy, unaware of their escape.
Mother otter runs for all her worth across the marshy ground front of the hide and on reaching the edge of the left-hand pond, a safe distance from the attack, it lets go of the cub which thankfully seems to be none the worse for the experience. Side by side both animals dive straight into the water and quickly swim away through the reeds and out of sight. I wait for a half hour or so hoping to confirm the cub is okay but I suppose not surprisingly they don’t reappear.
I eventually bring myself to leave, I can only hope that no lasting harm has come to the young otter, and that the experience doesn't put them off from coming back, because seeing them at such close quarters like that was an absolute fantastic treat, even though on this occasion I (and the otters come to that) got more than we bargained for.’
Postscript - not surprisingly the otters didn't return in a hurry, it was quite a while before another was recorded at the site, but to this day they are still seen here at irregular intervals.
Bit of a marathon this one but I'll probably never witness another scene like it, memorable in more ways than one.
June 1 2005
‘A regular visitor to Far Pasture ponds I'm getting a bit tired of reading the log and finding I've just missed an otter by an hour or so, yesterday being the third day out of four.
Desperate to see a wild otter I decide today is the day so off I go, early afternoon seems to be the best time according to the logbook so I get there shortly before noon, set to stay as long as it takes. I open a couple of windows and watch uncountable numbers of house martins and swifts with a smattering of sand martins and swallows, feasting on airborne insects in the steady but light rain.
Only a few minutes have passed when I hear a loud plop! from the left hand pond as if something had just dropped in without making a splash. Turning quickly I see and follow a trail of bubbles into open water.
I dare hope it’s the tell tale sign I’m looking for and sure enough, up pops the dark and rather flat-topped head of a good-sized mammal, turning towards me to reveal the unmistakeable features of one wild otter (Cue one of those Wow! moments as I gaze transfixed through binoculars from the hide).
I watch it swim back and forth for a short while then it makes its way to the rear of the pond, disappearing behind the jutting reeds and unfortunately out of sight. Slightly disappointed, I lower my binoculars but thinking philosophically if that was that, I don't care, at long last I've got my otter.
I scan the far end of the pond again but there is no sign, so I turn my attention to a couple of obliging reed buntings close by.
Just minutes later though, I catch sight of it as it comes out into the open again, distant and moving right to left at the rear of the pond then starts to make it’s way, half hidden, through the vegetation by the left bank. It eventually emerges into open water and I can't believe my eyes, it now has a cub with it and they are swimming towards me. Out of the water they come, and leaving the cub crouched by the small brick dam, the adult ( presumed mother) scrambles up the bank in front of the hide where I am sitting motionless, and amazingly I’m now less than four feet away from a wild otter separated only by an open window.
This is more than I could ever have hoped, an absolute belter of a view of this magnificent animal, now sitting up on hind legs, sniffing the air and looking all around, open-mouthed and still seemingly oblivious to my presence. It backs off a little and I can’t resist the urge to get some photos of this memorable occasion. Slowly I raise my camera, but I forget how loud it can be to the acute hearing of a wild animal and the electronic noise through the open window only serves to alert the mother and she quickly scampers back down to her cub.
I’m annoyed with myself, too eager to get photos I’ve spoilt an unbelievable experience, and thinking I’ve scared them off I chastise myself, but no, mother and cub swim the stream left to right from the small brick dam, up overland spooking a dozing moorhen in the process and into the right hand pond, still giving marvellous views.
Moving slowly and quietly around the hide I once again settle into position, but the serenity of this unforgettable scene is suddenly shattered as one of the resident pair of mute swans, seeing the otters from the far end of the pond, suddenly breaks away from its brood and runs at full pelt across the surface of the water in their direction, hissing loudly, wings beating rapidly and making an almighty din.
I don't know what to expect, it isn't taking off, it isn’t slowing down, everything in the vicinity, moorhens, coots, mallards, all scatter and the swan slams into the otters in the shallows in front of the hide and frenziedly starts stamping and gouging with its feet, hissing and flapping it’s wings ferociously in what has become a quite frightening scene. I’m totally stunned, I can see the otters in the water directly under the flailing feet of the swan and just watch in horror as the attack continues.
It is a very vicious, sustained attack and very worrying, I fear for the life of the young cub. No doubt the mother could escape easily but has to protect her cub which I believe the swan is attempting to drown. I hold my breath for what seems like an age, the swan is still in a frenzy of noise and violence and I can no longer see the otters, until at last mother otter scrambles up out of the water just a yard or so behind the swan, with cub in mouth, as the swan continues to beat the water in it’s frenzy, unaware of their escape.
Mother otter runs for all her worth across the marshy ground front of the hide and on reaching the edge of the left-hand pond, a safe distance from the attack, it lets go of the cub which thankfully seems to be none the worse for the experience. Side by side both animals dive straight into the water and quickly swim away through the reeds and out of sight. I wait for a half hour or so hoping to confirm the cub is okay but I suppose not surprisingly they don’t reappear.
I eventually bring myself to leave, I can only hope that no lasting harm has come to the young otter, and that the experience doesn't put them off from coming back, because seeing them at such close quarters like that was an absolute fantastic treat, even though on this occasion I (and the otters come to that) got more than we bargained for.’
Postscript - not surprisingly the otters didn't return in a hurry, it was quite a while before another was recorded at the site, but to this day they are still seen here at irregular intervals.
will@bill
FATHER AND SON TEAM
otter
keep them coming alan
we have been lucky with otters 2 or 3 at derwent area your big dog walked right in front us at the pond.
two up scotland next to hawick.
one more at scotland again next to durness(thats right up the top).
and a dead one in the teams:-C ran over i think
keep them coming alan
we have been lucky with otters 2 or 3 at derwent area your big dog walked right in front us at the pond.
two up scotland next to hawick.
one more at scotland again next to durness(thats right up the top).
and a dead one in the teams:-C ran over i think
Attachments
Mouldy
skywatcher, dragonhunter
I remember you telling me about the roadkill at the Teams Will, very sad. Even sadder for me was the cub I described above was also found dead on the nearby farmtrack a couple of weeks later, I was gutted when I found out.
Anyhow, dug some photos out of my otter experience, not very good ones, I took quite a few but my camera has a very slow focusing mechanism so just about every shot I took of moving objects was out of focus, trouble is I was so excited by the incident I forgot I could have video'd the whole episode.
Pic 1 - when I first caught sight of mother and cub swimming towards me out of the reeds.
Pic 2 - The mute swan attempting to give them a good kicking.
Pic 3 - Back end of the otters as they make their escape.
Anybody else out there had a good otter experience they could add on here? fascinating animals, so would love to hear about it if you do.
Anyhow, dug some photos out of my otter experience, not very good ones, I took quite a few but my camera has a very slow focusing mechanism so just about every shot I took of moving objects was out of focus, trouble is I was so excited by the incident I forgot I could have video'd the whole episode.
Pic 1 - when I first caught sight of mother and cub swimming towards me out of the reeds.
Pic 2 - The mute swan attempting to give them a good kicking.
Pic 3 - Back end of the otters as they make their escape.
Anybody else out there had a good otter experience they could add on here? fascinating animals, so would love to hear about it if you do.
Attachments
Mouldy
skywatcher, dragonhunter
Dam, dam , dam.
One of the highlights of the wildlife year in the valley is the autumn salmon leap at Lady Steps Damhead, a man-made weir on the river. We haven’t had the necessary rainfall so far this autumn (since the September floods anyway) to get the water levels up for some spectacular action but I’ve been gagging to get down there this last week to check it out and this morning presented my first real opportunity despite the steady but light rain.
So with the bairns fed and changed, bottles sterilised, breakfast prepared and eaten, I got the bike out of the garage and was on my way by 9.30am.
Cycling along the Derwent Walk I could see the mist still attached to the trees along Gibside, and apart from the cries of the odd crow silence prevailed. Nothing was moving. Up to the viaduct and leaving the shelter of the wooded path I find the rain was getting heavier.
Followed the track alongside the river and stopped to watch a pair of kites in pair-bonding mode, a mobbing crow breaks them up and one of the pair escorts me downstream to the park.
Looking at the river it looks faster than usual along this stretch and the level looks up from the norm so I may be in luck after all. I gather speed ’cos I still have a way to go and need to be back not long after 12 to take my oldest down to nursery, but on reaching the lake in the park I’m sure I spy a goldeneye so stop to have a look and sure enough, a female, first of the new season for me. A quick scan of the BH Gulls incase a Med is hiding among them but not today and off I go, scattering the grazing moorhens as I do, next stop the damhead.
On arriving I’m happy to see the river levels are higher than average and there’s quite a deafening torrent coming down the weir, but still not ideal conditions. I’ve just settled in position against the fence though when a really big salmon starts powering up the slope. It gets about two-thirds of the way up then comes to a stop, and beaten back by the torrent it slips back to the bottom of the slope to rest before trying again.
And for the first twenty minutes or so of my visit there’s quite a lot of activity, another large salmon and a couple of trout leap over the initial waterfall and two smallish trout and another salmon attempt the strength-sapping slope without success.
But then things go quiet, the rain has ceased by now but the birds don’t seem to be coming out to play, though I hadn’t even noticed a grey heron standing on the fence opposite me, hunched up and looking like it’s having a miserable time, it eventually flies off upstream, picking up another unseen heron from high in a tree just further along.
Four flyover mistle thrushes break the monotony of corvids and woodpigeons, then a grey wagtail announces it’s arrival and forages in the shallows just below me. As I latch on to it I notice a small trout in the same shallows but heading back down the slope into the white water.
A robin in close proximity and a band of long-tailed tits amuse me for a while before disaster strikes, just after I’ve been attacked by a passing dog I notice one of the rubber eyecups is missing from my binoculars, so spend the next twenty minutes searching the rough grass all along the fence I‘ve been patrolling. I‘m not amused, it‘ll cost about a tenner just for a tiny piece of rubber (what a cheapskate) to replace it, (I lost one a couple of years back too) and needless to say I don’t find it.
Time getting on too so have to start back, what a waste.
On the way back I note a flock of maybe 60 redwings and a grey squirrel runs across my path, no sign of the goldeneye as I pass by the lake, no dippers in any of the ’banker’ spots (probably due to their perching stones being underwater) and very little else ’til I get back to the spot where I saw the kites on the way down, and again note two soaring over the trees and this time also one perched high up just over the river. I stop and watch it preening itself for a few minutes, eventually reading the tag number as 54.
Up to the viaduct and the long uphill ride forces me to stop for a rest (as usual) A party of about 30 siskin bounds overhead and the two soaring kites can still be seen downstream. A third is up ahead, receiving unwanted attention from another crow.
Looking over the bridge and down onto the meadows a bird catches my eye bathing in a rain pool, I get a fix on it with my injured binoculars and find a handsome male kestrel having a bath, something you don’t often see, but is shortlived as a big female sparrowhawk swoops down as I watch and almost takes his head off.
Kes immediately flies up into e nearby tree to dry off, mrs sprawk lands in another close by and they sit staring each other out , while my attention is drawn by the distant tchk tchk of a dipper. I zoom in on the river as one flies into view around the bend, wings whirring as it skims the water and lands on a tractor wheel midstream (not, I might add, still attached to the tractor)
I glance my watch, definitely have to make the final stage of the journey home now, typically just as the whole landscape is brightening up, but despite the odd disappointment, some canny sightings, in fact quite content, must try again soon though, love watching the salmon and determined to see one make it over the top (it's like watching Steve McQueen on the great escape, you know he's gonna fail but you will him on just the same).
Photos:
Pic 1 - overview of the damhead looking upstream, fence to the right is my vantage point. Note the pebble island at the bottom of the dam, before the September floods this didn’t exist. And the fallen trees are a result of the same floods.
Pic 2 - Bottom of the dam, the initial leap for the trout and salmon. The higher the water level the easier to make the jump.
Pic 3 - the white water where the fish rest after the initial jump and before attempting the slope, they can queue up here sometimes in double figures when conditions are right. Note the heron on the fence far side.
Pic 4 - top of the weir, if any fish manage to get up the slope they then have to get across here. In four years I’ve never seen one make it yet.
Pic 5 - The big salmon trying it’s luck just after I arrived. No kidding it must have been over two feet long, a whopper.
One of the highlights of the wildlife year in the valley is the autumn salmon leap at Lady Steps Damhead, a man-made weir on the river. We haven’t had the necessary rainfall so far this autumn (since the September floods anyway) to get the water levels up for some spectacular action but I’ve been gagging to get down there this last week to check it out and this morning presented my first real opportunity despite the steady but light rain.
So with the bairns fed and changed, bottles sterilised, breakfast prepared and eaten, I got the bike out of the garage and was on my way by 9.30am.
Cycling along the Derwent Walk I could see the mist still attached to the trees along Gibside, and apart from the cries of the odd crow silence prevailed. Nothing was moving. Up to the viaduct and leaving the shelter of the wooded path I find the rain was getting heavier.
Followed the track alongside the river and stopped to watch a pair of kites in pair-bonding mode, a mobbing crow breaks them up and one of the pair escorts me downstream to the park.
Looking at the river it looks faster than usual along this stretch and the level looks up from the norm so I may be in luck after all. I gather speed ’cos I still have a way to go and need to be back not long after 12 to take my oldest down to nursery, but on reaching the lake in the park I’m sure I spy a goldeneye so stop to have a look and sure enough, a female, first of the new season for me. A quick scan of the BH Gulls incase a Med is hiding among them but not today and off I go, scattering the grazing moorhens as I do, next stop the damhead.
On arriving I’m happy to see the river levels are higher than average and there’s quite a deafening torrent coming down the weir, but still not ideal conditions. I’ve just settled in position against the fence though when a really big salmon starts powering up the slope. It gets about two-thirds of the way up then comes to a stop, and beaten back by the torrent it slips back to the bottom of the slope to rest before trying again.
And for the first twenty minutes or so of my visit there’s quite a lot of activity, another large salmon and a couple of trout leap over the initial waterfall and two smallish trout and another salmon attempt the strength-sapping slope without success.
But then things go quiet, the rain has ceased by now but the birds don’t seem to be coming out to play, though I hadn’t even noticed a grey heron standing on the fence opposite me, hunched up and looking like it’s having a miserable time, it eventually flies off upstream, picking up another unseen heron from high in a tree just further along.
Four flyover mistle thrushes break the monotony of corvids and woodpigeons, then a grey wagtail announces it’s arrival and forages in the shallows just below me. As I latch on to it I notice a small trout in the same shallows but heading back down the slope into the white water.
A robin in close proximity and a band of long-tailed tits amuse me for a while before disaster strikes, just after I’ve been attacked by a passing dog I notice one of the rubber eyecups is missing from my binoculars, so spend the next twenty minutes searching the rough grass all along the fence I‘ve been patrolling. I‘m not amused, it‘ll cost about a tenner just for a tiny piece of rubber (what a cheapskate) to replace it, (I lost one a couple of years back too) and needless to say I don’t find it.
Time getting on too so have to start back, what a waste.
On the way back I note a flock of maybe 60 redwings and a grey squirrel runs across my path, no sign of the goldeneye as I pass by the lake, no dippers in any of the ’banker’ spots (probably due to their perching stones being underwater) and very little else ’til I get back to the spot where I saw the kites on the way down, and again note two soaring over the trees and this time also one perched high up just over the river. I stop and watch it preening itself for a few minutes, eventually reading the tag number as 54.
Up to the viaduct and the long uphill ride forces me to stop for a rest (as usual) A party of about 30 siskin bounds overhead and the two soaring kites can still be seen downstream. A third is up ahead, receiving unwanted attention from another crow.
Looking over the bridge and down onto the meadows a bird catches my eye bathing in a rain pool, I get a fix on it with my injured binoculars and find a handsome male kestrel having a bath, something you don’t often see, but is shortlived as a big female sparrowhawk swoops down as I watch and almost takes his head off.
Kes immediately flies up into e nearby tree to dry off, mrs sprawk lands in another close by and they sit staring each other out , while my attention is drawn by the distant tchk tchk of a dipper. I zoom in on the river as one flies into view around the bend, wings whirring as it skims the water and lands on a tractor wheel midstream (not, I might add, still attached to the tractor)
I glance my watch, definitely have to make the final stage of the journey home now, typically just as the whole landscape is brightening up, but despite the odd disappointment, some canny sightings, in fact quite content, must try again soon though, love watching the salmon and determined to see one make it over the top (it's like watching Steve McQueen on the great escape, you know he's gonna fail but you will him on just the same).
Photos:
Pic 1 - overview of the damhead looking upstream, fence to the right is my vantage point. Note the pebble island at the bottom of the dam, before the September floods this didn’t exist. And the fallen trees are a result of the same floods.
Pic 2 - Bottom of the dam, the initial leap for the trout and salmon. The higher the water level the easier to make the jump.
Pic 3 - the white water where the fish rest after the initial jump and before attempting the slope, they can queue up here sometimes in double figures when conditions are right. Note the heron on the fence far side.
Pic 4 - top of the weir, if any fish manage to get up the slope they then have to get across here. In four years I’ve never seen one make it yet.
Pic 5 - The big salmon trying it’s luck just after I arrived. No kidding it must have been over two feet long, a whopper.
Attachments
Mouldy
skywatcher, dragonhunter
and there's more
Some more pics from my morning at the Damhead, apologies about the quality, must invest in a decent camera.
Pic 6 - Miserable Heron on fence
Pic 7 - Close-up of whopper salmon
Pic 8 - Cheeky little Grey wag
Pic 9 - Preening red kite
Some more pics from my morning at the Damhead, apologies about the quality, must invest in a decent camera.
Pic 6 - Miserable Heron on fence
Pic 7 - Close-up of whopper salmon
Pic 8 - Cheeky little Grey wag
Pic 9 - Preening red kite
Attachments
will@bill
FATHER AND SON TEAM
following in the great mans footsteps
we had a walk along the river this morning a good 5 salmon trying to make their way pass the weir. dipper and heron also hanging about and had to go back to show liam them just before dark:t:as he was still knocking out ZZZZZZ this morn:-O
we had a walk along the river this morning a good 5 salmon trying to make their way pass the weir. dipper and heron also hanging about and had to go back to show liam them just before dark:t:as he was still knocking out ZZZZZZ this morn:-O
Attachments
Mouldy
skywatcher, dragonhunter
Hi Will, glad you took a look down (or two), and as the rain has been persistent all day and still chucking it down as I type, there's a fair chance the river will have swelled by morning so probably worth a trip along, might well be an upsurge in piscatorial activity.
Mouldy
skywatcher, dragonhunter
Damhead Revisited
Just as I thought, the river level was well up today due to yesterday’s rain so I cycled to the Damhead to watch for salmon early afternoon. The water was like fast-moving strong tea and was quite torrential over the weir.
This meant it was good for numbers of fish trying their luck, I would say around a dozen were lined up in the white water at the bottom of the slope, mainly salmon, and varying greatly in size.
The downside was they weren’t easy to see in the muddy water, I had to strain to look for the telltale dorsal and tail fins in amongst the rapids, and the water was at such a torrent that the many attempts at breaching the dam fizzled out prematurely, all but one failed to even reach the halfway mark up the slope.
Compelling viewing all the same, but once again I was beaten for time, my spare hour flew by then I had to get back to pick up the little feller from nursery.
The avian supporting cast was disappointing also, with only a single grey heron and moorhen for company, but just a few minutes before I was due to leave I had the welcome surprise of a flyover juvenile peregrine, which made my uphill, against the (strengthening) wind, sun in eyes journey home a bit more bearable but no less knackering.
Pic 1and 2 - Just to compare water levels from Friday (with token heron).
Pic 3 - A decent sized trout making a (failed) bid for glory
Just as I thought, the river level was well up today due to yesterday’s rain so I cycled to the Damhead to watch for salmon early afternoon. The water was like fast-moving strong tea and was quite torrential over the weir.
This meant it was good for numbers of fish trying their luck, I would say around a dozen were lined up in the white water at the bottom of the slope, mainly salmon, and varying greatly in size.
The downside was they weren’t easy to see in the muddy water, I had to strain to look for the telltale dorsal and tail fins in amongst the rapids, and the water was at such a torrent that the many attempts at breaching the dam fizzled out prematurely, all but one failed to even reach the halfway mark up the slope.
Compelling viewing all the same, but once again I was beaten for time, my spare hour flew by then I had to get back to pick up the little feller from nursery.
The avian supporting cast was disappointing also, with only a single grey heron and moorhen for company, but just a few minutes before I was due to leave I had the welcome surprise of a flyover juvenile peregrine, which made my uphill, against the (strengthening) wind, sun in eyes journey home a bit more bearable but no less knackering.
Pic 1and 2 - Just to compare water levels from Friday (with token heron).
Pic 3 - A decent sized trout making a (failed) bid for glory
Attachments
