Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Somebody who I share a certain amount of genetic material with has been unwell. The somebody who has been unwell, is better than a short while ago but not as good as the ideal. There is more doctoring to be done before restoration of full wellness. I felt that it was a good idea for me, and Mrs Thing, to visit said somebody and to check on some 'business' at the same time. The visit was good.
Hence the absence, and the huge fall in fatbirderism. The visit that we undertook was in the county of Norfolk. Some of you may have heard of it. Despite the nature of the visit to Norfolk, and the metaphorical cloud that was hanging over it, there is always time for a cheeky visit to Cley on the way back, eh?
Look!
Loads of fucking Spoonbills!
Normally when I see a Spoonbill they are sitting in the corner of a scrape/lagoon. Sleeping. But not these ones, they were proper bloody bonkers Spoonbills. Bonkers! Look at them! Look! Running around and everything! With a bill shaped like a fucking spoon! Look! They are mad.
The reserve had just shut, so this was as close as we got, but I nevertheless whacked out the trusty germans and got stuck in. Mrs Thing was mildly surprised by the amount of rudewordness caused by these birds so I insisted that she have a look at what all the fuss was about. "Have a look, they are like a big Little Egret but with a spoon shaped bill, honest!" "Yeah, yeah, as if a bird round here is going to have a bill shaped like a .....wow, they have a bill shaped like a spoon!"
Bonkers! Spoonbills! Kinell!
Then a Marsh Harrier came over and sent the whole marsh up.
Spoonbills in flight!
Spoonbills doing bonkers, in flight.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
I remember well the day that it began.
It was late summer in the late 80's. My friend Mark and I had made our way to Cley. Mark was much shorter than me, and insisted that he had once seen a Lesser Kestrel. He hadn't. We were at the beach, close to the pillbox thingy and some kindly old gentlemen pointed in the direction of a small bird. We presented the optics to the eyes and behold, a Black Redstart. And it just sort of came out of me, "wow - that is fucking beautiful". Birders Tourrette's. The old gentlemen was a little shocked and suprised, but I think he understood.
It doesn't occur all the time when seeing birds and isnt connected just with seeing rare birds. The White-crowned Sparrow not so long ago could only produce Jazz Club type utterances - "oooh - Niiiice". At the other end of the scale are warblers. Last years Blyths at Runton, a perfunctory - "oh". But occasionally it rears it's head. Red-necked Phalarope (not even in summer plumage) the year after the Redstart - "whoa - fuuuuuck!".
I know that I am not alone with this condition, the Siberian Thrush that was in norfolk recently was described by a fellow blogger as a 'spunkdrainer'. Whilst amusing to some, i understand - this is a wholly fitting term for a bird that ticks the Tourrette's box.
Why am I rattling on about all this shit? Because I found this in a park over the weekend.
Just have a butchers at this bastard!
I'm hoping that I don't find a Bee-eater in a public place, could get nasty.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
It seems that most London birders seem to be able to just look into the sky to pick up raptors at the moment, Kites, Buzzards, Ospreys and not long before some Honey Buzzards are popping through I guess (ie
http://cloaca65.blogspot.com/2009/04/big-blue.html).
Of course, large raptors have never ever been seen in
Fulham.
Ever.
So I have had to suffice with Geese. There are other birds around (including Coots - worry not dear reader - my inbox is inundated with no requests for an update, but an update on the mentalists you will get!) but the geese are the only ones that hang around long enough to take a shite picture of. So here goes - shite pics ahoy!
Greylag, with the obligatory traffic cone in the river.
Canada. They fly up the river, they fly down the river.
Egyptian, this one was doing a spot of preening after falling out with it's missus.
And er, that's it.
Have a picture of some Brent Geese that I didn't take in Fulham.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
How's that for topical?
Well, dear reader, it may not be new, but the quality is unquestionable. Recently on Londonbirders, the former Inner London Bird Recorder and Hyde Park regular Des McKenzie offered up a bookcase of old bird reports from all over the place, for nothing, for whoever wanted them. So I got in contact. Having been a resident of Norfolk for a couple of decades, and that is also where I learned the craft, I was only to happy to get hold of a dozen or so Norfolk Bird and Mammal reports starting in the mid-sixties up to 1984 and a dozen or so Norfolk Bird Club bulletins. Sweet.
I have only reached 1968 on my reading and the ever tolerant Mrs Thing is being bombarded with lots and lots of "Listen to this!". Last night was spent reading an article by Richard Richardson and Billy Bishop on the attempted breeding of a couple of pairs of Black Tailed Godwits. This is not an article that would be submitted to an academic journal, but is all the better for it. An eight page analysis of their behaviour, habits, calls and attempts to breed at Cley one summer, it is very thorough and quite brilliant. As would be expected, it is illustrated fully by Richard Richardson's line drawings which are excellent at capturing the essence of a bird in a particular situation and what he leaves out is as good as what he puts in (remember that he rarely sketched in the field). Class.
But that wasn't all. The next article was a breakdown of the irruption of Nutcrackers from that year - and they were bloody everywhere! Two phases - one in August in which produced 23 birds (yes, 23 Nutcrackers in one county) and the second phase from August to mid-september that produced 54 (fifty-four). Kinell!
And I've seen some pictures too - they were not funny looking starlings, they were definitely Nutcrackers. And that is just the figures for Norfolk! Stunning. Proper birding, proper reading and I've still got loads left to read!
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Some of the more long standing, avid, or perhaps even dedicated readers of this blog might, perchance, remember me moaning (no shit, honestly) about the lack of irruptives in my life this winter and I presented to you the waxwing bush...
... which still has a berry on it, hope is not lost.
Well today I offer you another stunning area of habitat in my humble patch. Considering the inner city location of my patch this large, nay vast, area of reedbed is quite remarkable, and an asset to the local biodiversity - rivalling anything that the wonders of Norfolk can provide.
It is of course not yet the home to a resident population of Bearded Tits (yes, Tits - not bearded bloody reedlings), but I have great hopes for it. There is enough space for a booming bittern to hide itself, and there are plenty of rats here, so a Short Eared Owl may pass by just after the Marsh Harrier worries the Corncrake. If you look hard at the picture you can see, through the dense stems, the resident ducks, and it has even held a couple of Phylloscopus in the winter months.
Well what did you expect?
