Mouldy's Kingdom (Diary of a frustrated birder) (2 Viewers)

[Mouldy]

Buzz Buzz Buzz Buzz

Nice one. Funnily enough, I was fantasising about finding a Firecrest when I found the Lesser Spotted Woodpecker yesterday. Maybe if I'd been just a fraction better behaved during the week I might have managed both of them.

Na, I think even with the Karma on your side it's best not to be too greedy

Skywatching - Back with a Vengeance

Today began well with a female sparrow hawk spending a long while resting on one leg on our garden fence as I pottered about the kitchen (wondered why there were no birds at the feeders). I caught her ruthless stare a couple of times through me bins but of course as soon as I went for my camera she disappeared out of sight.

Anyway that was beginning of a canny raptor day, the morning was calm after the gales through the night, skies were bright blue and a smattering of white fluffies, a perfect day for sky watching.
Sure enough, as I hung out the washing about 10.30am one red kite was followed by another, then a crow mobbing a common buzzard came right over the top of me.
Experience tells me that raptor activity tends to come in bursts so encouraged by that I stayed outside a while and was treated to some top class entertainment.

Three buzzards came over from across the valley, a pair of which were displaying, diving in and twisting away from each other, great stuff. No sooner had these drifted off then three kites took their place, then at irregular intervals at varying heights, distances and directions I noted : sparrow hawk, buzzard, buzzard, 2 buzzards and sparrow hawk, different 2 buzzards, kite, 2 buzzards, kite buzzard and pair sparrow hawks soaring together, sparrow hawk (m), sparrow hawk and kite, kite, 2 kites (one of which was carrying what looked like a shredded plastic carrier, a nice nest decoration methinks), then for quite a while four kites hung around the village, displaying in pairs and coming right overhead on numerous occasions, quartering low over the houses and inspecting the gardens before the weather closed in and the snow showers started.

But if that’s a taste of things to come in the spring then I can’t wait.

Banged off nearly 50 photos but most were out of focus, best of the rest :
1. buzzard and crow 2. Buzzard and crow 3. buzzard 4. red kite 5. four x red kites

cheers

 

[Moraybirdlover]

Sounds like you had a brilliant day!!:t:

 

[Mouldy]

What am I Tolkien about?

A fact-based fictitious tale of the trials of birding as might have happened in a parallel world somewhere in middle earth Monday gone, names have been changed to avoid me being sued in a three part epic tale entitled :

Lords of the Dip

Part I - The Fellowship of the Dip

Sunday, the bells ring out and a familiar voice beckons me, “tomorrow we seek either the Hawks of Goss at the forest of Hamsterley in the Shire, or the Great Shrike in the Dark Land of North Umber, will you join us?“
“Aye” I say, in need of adventure, and a restless night follows in anticipation of the quest which lies ahead.

Daybreak comes almost too quickly and provisions are assembled for the arduous journey. A silver chariot pulls up outside my keep, a red-haired man arrives at my door bearing a gift of grain to feed my hungry minions for the coming months, his name is Wilbo, a small giant of a man, an adventurer and optimist. In the chariot sits his father Bilbo, the wise old sage. I join them and we set off on an epic journey, each armed only with a pair of looking glasses, to seek the Great Shrike in the Land of North Umber, as it‘s deemed too windy for the Hawks of Goss to appear this day.

We cross the river to the north and before we know it we are in North Umber, the ill winds howl against us, trying to discourage us and sow seeds of doubt on the wisdom of our journey, but we drive on, deeper into the darklands, and soon hungry buzzards gather in the skies above us, watching our every move.
“How will we know where to find the Great Shrike?” I ask, already lost ’cos I don’t get out much.
“I overheard the directions in a game of Chinese Whispers” came the confident reply of Wilbo the Optimist.
“Have you a map?” I ask.
“No, my magic knowledge box would not spit forth the directions, (something to do with cut and paste problems) but no worries, I have memorised the instructions, we follow the trail towards Wrathbury, then take a small track to the north, I think called the road of 6341 bees, ‘til we come upon a country park about three miles along of which I cannot remember the name but will know when I see it. We follow the trail on foot across the moors ‘til we come upon the Black Lake, here we shall find the Great Shrike. And to help us find this dark place I have my spirit guide, known as the genie of Satnav.”

The end of civilization comes as we turn onto the road of bees which takes us up the eastern slope of a deep valley, we pass the ruins of a castle down below, long since deserted, the scene of many a battle between good and evil no doubt. Large sinister looking black birds are everywhere, we see no signs of the way to the Black Lake. Nervously we ask for guidance from the genie of Satnav.
“You have lost satellite communication” came the voice from the small silver box at the front of the chariot, and even our spirit guide had deserted us!
“We shall use the stars to guide us” I say.
“But it’s broad daylight” says Wilbo the Adventurer “and they’re not stars, it‘s mud on the windscreen“
“Then we must turn back” I cry, “I have seen a vision of this place on my oracle box, I‘m sure it is to the east of the ruinous castle we passed back there and we find it at a forest clearing just to the north of a village I can’t for the life of me remember the name of”
“You’re a fine pair” says Bilbo the wise one.

We turn full circle and head back ‘til the castle comes into view, we park up the chariot in a suitable place where wandering orcs will not find it, (blind ones anyway) and prepare to continue our journey on foot.
“It must be somewhere over these hills” says Wilbo. We survey the scene ahead of us, desolate boggy moors one side, dark forest the other. The winds still howl in our faces, then suddenly Bilbo the wise one finds a secret path hidden behind a five-bar gate and our trek can begin......

Next, Part II - The Two Dips

(If anyone's bothered that is)

 

[Stewart J.]

Nice one Mouldy that really appeals B B B

Looking forward to the next instalment

Stewart

 

[will@bill]

Really excellent Alan crying with laugher:-O:-O glad you kept those two buffoons names out of it
Who ever they are

 

[Helenelizabeth2]

A fact-based fictitious tale of the trials of birding as might have happened in a parallel world somewhere in middle earth Monday gone, names have been changed to avoid me being sued in a three part epic tale entitled :

Lords of the Dip

Part I - The Fellowship of the Dip

Sunday, the bells ring out and a familiar voice beckons me, “tomorrow we seek either the Hawks of Goss at the forest of Hamsterley in the Shire, or the Great Shrike in the Dark Land of North Umber, will you join us?“
“Aye” I say, in need of adventure, and a restless night follows in anticipation of the quest which lies ahead.

Daybreak comes almost too quickly and provisions are assembled for the arduous journey. A silver chariot pulls up outside my keep, a red-haired man arrives at my door bearing a gift of grain to feed my hungry minions for the coming months, his name is Wilbo, a small giant of a man, an adventurer and optimist. In the chariot sits his father Bilbo, the wise old sage. I join them and we set off on an epic journey, each armed only with a pair of looking glasses, to seek the Great Shrike in the Land of North Umber, as it‘s deemed too windy for the Hawks of Goss to appear this day.

We cross the river to the north and before we know it we are in North Umber, the ill winds howl against us, trying to discourage us and sow seeds of doubt on the wisdom of our journey, but we drive on, deeper into the darklands, and soon hungry buzzards gather in the skies above us, watching our every move.
“How will we know where to find the Great Shrike?” I ask, already lost ’cos I don’t get out much.
“I overheard the directions in a game of Chinese Whispers” came the confident reply of Wilbo the Optimist.
“Have you a map?” I ask.
“No, my magic knowledge box would not spit forth the directions, (something to do with cut and paste problems) but no worries, I have memorised the instructions, we follow the trail towards Wrathbury, then take a small track to the north, I think called the road of 6341 bees, ‘til we come upon a country park about three miles along of which I cannot remember the name but will know when I see it. We follow the trail on foot across the moors ‘til we come upon the Black Lake, here we shall find the Great Shrike. And to help us find this dark place I have my spirit guide, known as the genie of Satnav.”

The end of civilization comes as we turn onto the road of bees which takes us up the eastern slope of a deep valley, we pass the ruins of a castle down below, long since deserted, the scene of many a battle between good and evil no doubt. Large sinister looking black birds are everywhere, we see no signs of the way to the Black Lake. Nervously we ask for guidance from the genie of Satnav.
“You have lost satellite communication” came the voice from the small silver box at the front of the chariot, and even our spirit guide had deserted us!
“We shall use the stars to guide us” I say.
“But it’s broad daylight” says Wilbo the Adventurer “and they’re not stars, it‘s mud on the windscreen“
“Then we must turn back” I cry, “I have seen a vision of this place on my oracle box, I‘m sure it is to the east of the ruinous castle we passed back there and we find it at a forest clearing just to the north of a village I can’t for the life of me remember the name of”
“You’re a fine pair” says Bilbo the wise one.

We turn full circle and head back ‘til the castle comes into view, we park up the chariot in a suitable place where wandering orcs will not find it, (blind ones anyway) and prepare to continue our journey on foot.
“It must be somewhere over these hills” says Wilbo. We survey the scene ahead of us, desolate boggy moors one side, dark forest the other. The winds still howl in our faces, then suddenly Bilbo the wise one finds a secret path hidden behind a five-bar gate and our trek can begin......

Next, Part II - The Two Dips

(If anyone's bothered that is)

Astonishing that something so Tolkienesque can yet resonate as the common experience of a million modern adventurers.

(Made me laugh out loud, by the way)

 

[Mouldy]

Cheers folks, your reward is the second part of the trilogy (Peter Jackson couldn't churn them out this quickly)

Lords of the Dip

Part II - The Two Dips

Tentatively we climb the gate and into unknown terrain, but keen as ever, Wilbo the Adventurer bounds up the path enthusiastically.
“ Come on, the Black Lake must be just over this hill” he says. It isn’t. “It must be over this hill then” It isn’t. “This one then” it isn’t.
Boggy underfoot, howling wind driving against us, and we’ve somehow managed to mislay the footpath. A gateway into the forest appears to our left, we make our way towards it and much needed shelter from the strengthening winds. But first we have to negotiate the sodden ground underfoot.

“There‘s a knack to this” says Bilbo the wise one. “Just step onto the high tufts and you don’t get bogged down” he says as he stumbles forward and almost ends up in a ditch, denting his wisdom slightly.
We soon reach the gate and take cover in the forest where a muddy trail takes us ever higher, the wind whistles through the treetops, the creaking of bending trees doesn’t really startle us, the feeling we were being watched didn’t occur to us, we didn‘t think we were being followed, and we weren‘t.
“Just around the next bend” says Wilbo, yards ahead, leaving a trail of bootprints in the mud for us to follow in his wake. It isn‘t. “No just around this next bend then”, it isn’t. “Must be this one then” and sure enough it isn’t.

My lack of fitness begins to tell, I really need to dust off my two-wheeled pedal chariot if I ever get out of this godforsaken place, I think to myself. I’m just about to ask if our mission is doomed when the next bend in the trail actually does take us somewhere; to a gateway back out onto the moors, but it‘s guarded by a piece of orange string.
The string is no match for Bilbo the wise one, who valiantly leaps into action and pulls it over the gatepost, he wrestles with it and holds it back for us to pass through the now unguarded gate, then swiftly loops it back over the post and rejoins us.

We stride out onto the exposed and barren land again, still higher we climb, yet still we don’t see even a dickybird never mind signs of the Great Shrike.
But suddenly the land all but levels out, the forest edge we have been following comes to an abrupt end, we look around to the left to reveal the murky, still waters of the Black Lake just a few hundred yards away.
“Telt ye it was just here” says Wilbo, proudly.
We make our way round towards it, scanning all directions for sign of the Great Shrike. The sun shines on us now but standing exposed, there is no escape from the bitter wind.

We are at the lake but none of us are any the wiser as to where the Great Shrike is likely to be. We stare into the black waters, nothing stirs. Far side a ramshackle home next to a wooden jetty but no sign of the occupant who would have been the only man who could have told us how to find the Great Shrike. We can only imagine he’s become a victim of the evil slobbering half-man half-fish creature which probably lurks beneath the black waters, or maybe he just isn‘t home today.
Buzzards kite in the wind in the distance and an unseen skylark serenades us from above (or was it laughing at us). We check every likely perch again and again, but no sign of the Great Shrike. Exhausted by the uphill struggle and battered by the relentless weather, I’m all of a blether and at the end of my tether but then find a feather lying in the heather, a black and white primary and a sure sign that the Great Shrike has at least been here.
“You should keep that, it’s probably the only part of a shrike you’ll see today.” laughs Bilbo the wise one, and now part-time prophet.

We wander aimlessly ‘til suddenly a lone figure appears in the distance behind us.
“Look, a Wizard” I say “no mortal man could grow taller with every step.”
“That’s because he’s coming towards us” says Wilbo.
“But surely he will know of the Great Shrike, let us greet him” I say.
In a few moments the stranger reaches us, not a Wizard at all, just a man in a funny hat. He has as much knowledge of the Great Shrike as we do, but tells us of another in the Forest of Harwood.
“Ah, that’s the one I heard about” says I “the one in the forest clearing just north of said village I mentioned before, I didn‘t know there were two!” as suddenly my crossed wires fall into place.
“Then we shall seek the Great Shrike of Harwood” yells Wilbo, with typical enthusiasm.

The stranger gives us directions to the last known place of the second Great Shrike and the panoramic viewpoint of a Hangman’s Gibbet, which in the excitement of this new venture no-one really listens to, and we hastily retrace our tracks down the slopes to our chariot, encountering a wren and a kestrel as we do so, putting our daylist after some three and a half hours nearly into double figures.
We reach the chariot and break out our much needed provisions, sustenance for the new journey which lies ahead........

To Be Continued, the final chapter : The Return and the King (fisher)

(once I've written it)

 

[Stewart J.]

:clap::clap::clap:

Brilliant

Stewart

 

[will@bill]

:clap::clap::clap:

Brilliant

Stewart

here is the great man himself looking for the great grey one!

 

[Moraybirdlover]

A really enjoyable read, really brightened up my day!!!:-O

 

[Tree Sparrow]

Cheers folks, your reward is the second part of the trilogy (Peter Jackson couldn't churn them out this quickly)

Lords of the Dip

Part II - The Two Dips

Tentatively we climb the gate and into unknown terrain, but keen as ever, Wilbo the Adventurer bounds up the path enthusiastically.
“ Come on, the Black Lake must be just over this hill” he says. It isn’t. “It must be over this hill then” It isn’t. “This one then” it isn’t.
Boggy underfoot, howling wind driving against us, and we’ve somehow managed to mislay the footpath. A gateway into the forest appears to our left, we make our way towards it and much needed shelter from the strengthening winds. But first we have to negotiate the sodden ground underfoot.

“There‘s a knack to this” says Bilbo the wise one. “Just step onto the high tufts and you don’t get bogged down” he says as he stumbles forward and almost ends up in a ditch, denting his wisdom slightly.
We soon reach the gate and take cover in the forest where a muddy trail takes us ever higher, the wind whistles through the treetops, the creaking of bending trees doesn’t really startle us, the feeling we were being watched didn’t occur to us, we didn‘t think we were being followed, and we weren‘t.
“Just around the next bend” says Wilbo, yards ahead, leaving a trail of bootprints in the mud for us to follow in his wake. It isn‘t. “No just around this next bend then”, it isn’t. “Must be this one then” and sure enough it isn’t.

My lack of fitness begins to tell, I really need to dust off my two-wheeled pedal chariot if I ever get out of this godforsaken place, I think to myself. I’m just about to ask if our mission is doomed when the next bend in the trail actually does take us somewhere; to a gateway back out onto the moors, but it‘s guarded by a piece of orange string.
The string is no match for Bilbo the wise one, who valiantly leaps into action and pulls it over the gatepost, he wrestles with it and holds it back for us to pass through the now unguarded gate, then swiftly loops it back over the post and rejoins us.

We stride out onto the exposed and barren land again, still higher we climb, yet still we don’t see even a dickybird never mind signs of the Great Shrike.
But suddenly the land all but levels out, the forest edge we have been following comes to an abrupt end, we look around to the left to reveal the murky, still waters of the Black Lake just a few hundred yards away.
“Telt ye it was just here” says Wilbo, proudly.
We make our way round towards it, scanning all directions for sign of the Great Shrike. The sun shines on us now but standing exposed, there is no escape from the bitter wind.

We are at the lake but none of us are any the wiser as to where the Great Shrike is likely to be. We stare into the black waters, nothing stirs. Far side a ramshackle home next to a wooden jetty but no sign of the occupant who would have been the only man who could have told us how to find the Great Shrike. We can only imagine he’s become a victim of the evil slobbering half-man half-fish creature which probably lurks beneath the black waters, or maybe he just isn‘t home today.
Buzzards kite in the wind in the distance and an unseen skylark serenades us from above (or was it laughing at us). We check every likely perch again and again, but no sign of the Great Shrike. Exhausted by the uphill struggle and battered by the relentless weather, I’m all of a blether and at the end of my tether but then find a feather lying in the heather, a black and white primary and a sure sign that the Great Shrike has at least been here.
“You should keep that, it’s probably the only part of a shrike you’ll see today.” laughs Bilbo the wise one, and now part-time prophet.

We wander aimlessly ‘til suddenly a lone figure appears in the distance behind us.
“Look, a Wizard” I say “no mortal man could grow taller with every step.”
“That’s because he’s coming towards us” says Wilbo.
“But surely he will know of the Great Shrike, let us greet him” I say.
In a few moments the stranger reaches us, not a Wizard at all, just a man in a funny hat. He has as much knowledge of the Great Shrike as we do, but tells us of another in the Forest of Harwood.
“Ah, that’s the one I heard about” says I “the one in the forest clearing just north of said village I mentioned before, I didn‘t know there were two!” as suddenly my crossed wires fall into place.
“Then we shall seek the Great Shrike of Harwood” yells Wilbo, with typical enthusiasm.

The stranger gives us directions to the last known place of the second Great Shrike and the panoramic viewpoint of a Hangman’s Gibbet, which in the excitement of this new venture no-one really listens to, and we hastily retrace our tracks down the slopes to our chariot, encountering a wren and a kestrel as we do so, putting our daylist after some three and a half hours nearly into double figures.
We reach the chariot and break out our much needed provisions, sustenance for the new journey which lies ahead........

To Be Continued, the final chapter : The Return and the King (fisher)

(once I've written it)

I can't wait! I really, REALLY love this :t:.

TS

 

[Mouldy]

The Final Chapter

Ta for your appreciation Stewart, Susan and Tree, Will you should be a papparazzo with your cunning knack for candid photography, my cover blown once again :-C

Well prepare yourselves, the final part in this epic trilogy is nigh, hope you enjoy it as much as I had fun writing it (and actually being there, in a sense)
cheers :


Lords of the Dip

Part III - The Return and the King (fisher)

With the Genie of the Satnav apparently still out to lunch, no-one really sure of what the wizard/stranger in the funny hat we encountered by the Black Lake had told us beyond go to Wrathbury, over a bridge and then turn left.... or right, (this was probably where we went wrong) and with the only available map being ancient text in the pages of Ye Olde Book of Where to Watch Birds in the North East of England by Sir Tainly Knott-Here, which has crap diagrams which don’t show the village or the forest we need to find and has black lines which turn out not to be roads, needless to say we struggle to find the Forest of Harwood.

We find Wrathbury ok but the bridge over the river was well hidden, we trailed up and down the main street, trying not to draw attention to ourselves from the inhabitants, who luckily seem to be in zombie-like trance as they go about their daily business, bar a few youthful wraiths, gorging themselves on cans of red bulls blood and rancid meat pasties, they catch me looking at them and hex me with a sign of the V. Eventually, after passing it two or three times we find the bridge, cunningly hidden down Bridge Street of all places.

Taking the left or was it right track we pass many woodlands and keep our eyes peeled for Hawks of Goss but to no avail. Kept thinking we’d missed imaginary turn-offs we had to perform three fifty-point turns on roads no wider than a bandy-legged hobbit, (one of which was witnessed by a group of travellers who applauded the completion of this feat with such passionate sarcasm not often witnessed in these lands) we eventually stumble upon a gathering of chariots in a forest clearing.
We stop for more comestibles and a bit of head clearing (not difficult). A map etched in stone tells us we are not where we thought we were (no surprise there) but this map too proves to be as much use an ashtray on a motorchariot as it promises the Forest of Harwood is just further along the road past a small moorland range, but in reality we go round a bend (or perhaps around the bend) and we run out of trees. Farmed land stretches for miles either side of the road, it dawns on us that our quest to find the Great Shrike is ended, and we reluctantly decide to return home, defeated.

But then Wilbo, ever the optimist, decides we should take a route which passes the legendary lake of the Big Waters, a magical place I’ve only heard of in tales of otters and kingfishers, or seen on the telly when that Orc lookalike fella off Buzzcocks dredged a path under the A1 chariot way so the otters wouldn’t have to cross the roadway to a certain death.
We make good speed and reach this enchanted land where we are greeted by more birds than you can shake Gandalf’s staff at, an oasis in the barren dark lands we have travelled this day. Tree sparrows in abundance, a plethora of finches and tits and buntings and woodpeckers. The water is inhabited by goldeneye, wigeon and teal, herons, gulls, cormorants and waders, and we are treated to a magical audience with the Fisher King himself (actually herself in this case).

Our daylist then (if we were keeping one) easily tops a score an England cricket team would be satisfied with these days (so not that many then) and we travel back to the Shire in buoyant mood, only the bridge spanning the river which separates our lands stands between us and home, but having travelled the land of North Umber undetected by the forces of evil (and by most of the birds come to think of it) for almost six hours I suddenly have a chilling thought.
“What if there’s a troll at the bridge?” I ask nervously.
“I drive straight past it” says Wilbo in determined fashion, “I’m certainly not paying just to go across a bridge.”

As it happens there is no troll, and no toll even, and before we know it we are back in the Shire. No heroes welcome when we arrive home, but we don’t care, we’re happy with the adventure we’ve had, and in the knowledge that we live to fight another quest, another day.
I say my goodbyes to Wilbo and Bilbo, and they ride off in the silver chariot into the sunset. Life returns to normal in the Shire as I enter my Keep and am greeted by “Daddy, do this” “Daddy do that” “Change that nappy” “Waaah!” and my venture into the darklands already seems a million miles away.

Later that evening after sending the little ones to bed with tales of the day’s adventures, and before retiring for much needed rest myself, I consult the oracle, the founts of all knowledge known as the birdforum and birdguides, to find that sightings of the Great Shrike of the Black Lake have ceased since yesterday, and not only that, a mere coincidence I’m sure, but a Great Shrike has appeared in our very own Shire at the Forest of Hamsterley this very day while we were up north looking for one which wasn’t there, and one which may have been there but we weren’t (?)........ but wait a minute, the Forest of Hamsterley? wasn’t that where we were originally going to try for the Hawks of Goss this morning?
“Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!”

THE END

What they said ;

“If I were alive today I’d still be spinning in my grave” J R R Tolkien

“That lake sounds good for fly fishing” J R Hartley

“Hey, this would make a great film” J R Thurank

“ Oil drink to that” J R Ewing

 

[Mouldy]

As a footnote to the above tale, I hope any Northumberland birders looking in don’t take offence at some of the ’dark/evil’ comments in reference to their beautiful county, which over the last few years I’ve probably spent more time birding in than my own, the remarks would have been similar no matter where we had gone looking for the shrike, even locally, made purely to create the Tolkienesque atmosphere for the skit.

Hope you enjoyed anyway.

Cheers

Alan M

 

[Moraybirdlover]

Part 3 didn't disappoint( apart from your dip of course)!
Am really looking forward to your next epic adventure with Wilbo and Bilbo!!

 

[Stewart J.]

A wonderful read Mouldy, made my day

ATB

Stewart

 

[Tree Sparrow]

Otter Experience

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.

I'm a bit late (just started reading your diary from the beginning) but I did have a lovely otter experience about 5 years ago.

It was May and we were just North of Brora, staying on a caravan site. I decided to go down to the beach to do a bit of sea fishing after our evening meal. My husband couldn't be bothered so I went down on my own to a completely deserted beach. Was happily fishing away and thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye heading from the land to the sea but when I looked couldn't see anything. Continued fishing and suddenly saw what I thought was a fish swimming in the shallows. Suddenly a head popped up! Quickly reeled in and then stood and watched entranced as the otter swam about. It was obviously intrigued by me and kept looking at me, coming closer and closer to within about 6 yards before losing it's nerve and swimming away, only to come back yet again. I must have stood there watching for about 5 minutes before it decided I was boring and swam away for good.

It was a magical experience and totally unexpected which made it even better.

I don't have your way with words Mouldy so it probably sounds a bit boring but it wasn't, it was amazing. One of those really special moments that I'll never forget.

Back to your otter experience...........I was really upset to read on and find out that the otter cub didn't survive the swan attack. I suppose that's nature but it must have been horrendous having to watch at the time.

TS

 

[Mouldy]

Cheers Folks

I'm a bit late (just started reading your diary from the beginning) but I did have a lovely otter experience about 5 years ago.

It was May and we were just North of Brora, staying on a caravan site. I decided to go down to the beach to do a bit of sea fishing after our evening meal. My husband couldn't be bothered so I went down on my own to a completely deserted beach. Was happily fishing away and thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye heading from the land to the sea but when I looked couldn't see anything. Continued fishing and suddenly saw what I thought was a fish swimming in the shallows. Suddenly a head popped up! Quickly reeled in and then stood and watched entranced as the otter swam about. It was obviously intrigued by me and kept looking at me, coming closer and closer to within about 6 yards before losing it's nerve and swimming away, only to come back yet again. I must have stood there watching for about 5 minutes before it decided I was boring and swam away for good.

It was a magical experience and totally unexpected which made it even better.

I don't have your way with words Mouldy so it probably sounds a bit boring but it wasn't, it was amazing. One of those really special moments that I'll never forget.

Back to your otter experience...........I was really upset to read on and find out that the otter cub didn't survive the swan attack. I suppose that's nature but it must have been horrendous having to watch at the time.

TS

Great stuff Tree, a magical experience indeed, just something about these creatures (can't put my finger on it) that every sighting makes you feel privileged. Thanks for sharing it. :king: and join in anytime, much appreciated.

Don't want to upset you even more but it wasn't the swan attack that got the cub, it saddens me to say it was victim of roadkill which makes it even worse. :-C

Thanks Stewart and Susan for your appreciative comments on part III, glad at least a few are on my wavelength, thought it was just me :t:

And I note that yesterday Great Grey Shrikes were seen at Black Lough, Harwood and Hamsterley, but not by me which goes without saying.

cheers

 

[Tree Sparrow]

Great stuff Tree, a magical experience indeed, just something about these creatures (can't put my finger on it) that every sighting makes you feel privileged. Thanks for sharing it. :king: and join in anytime, much appreciated.

Don't want to upset you even more but it wasn't the swan attack that got the cub, it saddens me to say it was victim of roadkill which makes it even worse. :-C

Thanks Stewart and Susan for your appreciative comments on part III, glad at least a few are on my wavelength, thought it was just me :t:

And I note that yesterday Great Grey Shrikes were seen at Black Lough, Harwood and Hamsterley, but not by me which goes without saying.

cheers

Oh no! I didn't realise it was roadkill, I thought it had just succumbed (sp) to injuries received from the swan. That is sad :-C.

I'm afraid I'm also on your wavelength. Part III lived up to parts I & II. I hope you'll do a few more along those lines, without the dipping of course .

TS

 

[Mouldy]

Back to a bit of patch watching after the excitement of 'middle earth' last week :smoke:

Sky-watching for raptors from the back garden yesterday :

Most seen in one go 4 (2 red kite @ 2 buzzard)(2 kite, 1 buzzard, 1 sphawk)
3 (3 red kite, 2 buzzard 1 sphawk)
pairs of kites and buzzards both displaying in the skies overhead.
umpteen single sightings of red kite, 3 of buzzard, 2 of sphawk

One hour species count at Far Pasture late afternoon produced a disappointing 30 species, no spring migrants yet, highlights were Green woodpecker, jay, 6 snipe and excellent view of low-flying buzzard.
Noisy tree felling at adjacent water treatment works might have had something to do with lack of birdies on this occasion.

Skywatching today, good start early on with up to 5 red kites, displaying buzzards and sparrowhawk but sightings petered out with just singles or pairs of kites at long intervals during the afternoon. Can't win 'em all.

cheers

 

[Mouldy]

duck dip and sunshine soaring

Typically, a pair of garganey were reported yesterday at far pasture, the day AFTER I paid a visit, ace ducks to find anywhere but especially here which seems to be struggling to attract even mallards at the moment.
So out came the bike after the early morning chores were disposed of and down I went in brilliant sunshine to see if they’d stayed over. On the way heard a singing chiffchaff along the derwent walk, then met with one man and his dog at the top of the access road, like me checking out the exotic duck situation.

Into the hide to be greeted by Eddie, a regular, but with the half-expected news that no sign of our quarry this morning, though he had been lucky enough to get them yesterday, saying they’d hung around at the far end of the pond but were constantly harried by territorial coots, so wasn’t surprised they’d moved on.
My experience of garganey (not that much) has found them to be a bit lazy, spending long periods curled up asleep so I kept watch for the best part of an hour just in case this was the case (?)

A few other hopefuls turned up but hearing the negative news didn’t stay long, but we enjoyed a few more singing chiffchaffs, a couple of sunbathing snipe, coots, moorhen and yes a mallard.
Worryingly no swans or dabchicks so far this season, the grebes are a miss, usually two breeding pairs and the good thing about this site (probably the reason why I like it so much) is it’s very intimate, offering great views of whatever is here (snipe today for instance) I love watching the grebes fishing and on good days can be seen swimming underwater close to the hide, great chance to see those splendid paddle-feet.

Highlight of the morning though was after a bout of squealing, a couple of water rails ran across the front of us from the reeds left and into the reeds right, not a lengthy sighting but great to see them, like a couple of little roadrunners scooting past. Actually the first time I’ve seen two together, so worth turning out for.
Eventually had to leave as duties called at home, disappointed with another dip but pleased with what I’d seen and heard, and the crack with Steve and Eddie.

Back home later this morning, like a summers day, blue skies, not a hint of cloud, just a criss-crossing of vapour trails from the multitude of aircraft winging their way to, from and past Newcastle airport just a few miles away.
A pair of sparrow hawks gave a great display of, …well, displaying just about overhead, first time I’ve seen this behaviour, the male would dart in at the female, talons out, and the two would grapple talons with wings folded in, spin a half turn and catapult away from each other. This was done maybe half a dozen times, very interesting, they eventually soared up on the thermals and disappeared out of sight.

A bit later a kite came over at a decent height, soaring lazily in the heat in big circles, I kept an eye on it as I went about my business, knowing that one soaring like this often leads to more, and sure enough a second came on the scene, then another, then a buzzard, a second buzzard and then a sparrow hawk, all six spent a bit of time eying each other up in their individual big circles, but a bit like a Mexican stand-off and they eventually just drifted off in various directions without bothering one another.

Later in the afternoon a kite and buzzard entertained with a bit of social or maybe antisocial interaction, chasing and twisting in turn, and finally after the heat of the sun was starting to diminish, half a dozen kites gathered in the skies above the village for a while before drifting off in pairs.

Turned out a canny day then.