I made one of (what are becoming) my regular trips to Burton Marshes on Tuesday afternoon. There wasn’t an awful lot going on, but I did take two quite nice photos:
Grey heron
Whitethroat
Burton Marshes
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From brayer to bayer
I managed to slip in another quick walk down Burlees Lane, up through the wood, and back home via Raw Lane yesterday afternoon. Here are the snaps:
Brayer.
Burlees Lane.
Bluebells.
Water trough.
Yellow.
Corrugated fence.
Upper Calderdale.
Bayer.
Afternoon walk
I managed to squeeze in a short walk down Burlees Lane, up through the woods, and back home down the lanes between hailstorms yesterday afternoon.
Bluebells.
An English wood.
An English wood.
Rabbit.
Fence.
I need to make a point of getting out more often.
Bats and batter
We had been getting anxious for bats, not having seen any flitting above our patio this year. But we finally saw one—just one—on Tuesday evening. The bats are attracted to the house by insects, which are themselves attracted there by the residual day-warmth radiating from the stones of our south-west-facing house. The warmth was very noticeable. Jen and I could feel it from at least ten feet away. Our own little micro-climate!
Seeing the bat made my week.
Then, on Wednesday, we made a day-trip to Whitby to buy crab and to eat fish and chips. We took our farmer friend along for good measure. The fish and chips were excellent, as was the crab, which we ate in a sandwich for lunch on Thursday.
Herring gulls in Whitby harbour.
Moor Walk
It was another glorious day yesterday, and I had presciently got all of my household chores out of the way earlier in the week, so I decided to take a walk up to the Moor.
Might summer finally be here?
I was somewhat overdressed for the weather in my moleskin shirt, fleece and waterproof jacket. This was confirmed as I gasped my way to the top of the hill, only to see a fell-runner run past in only his running shoes and shorts. He was so intent on his running that he didn’t even bother to touch the trig point to make it official. Now there was a chap who needed to examine his priorities.
There were skylarks singing in the sky, several curlews burbling in the distance, and a number of wheatears flashing their eponymous white arses along the walls and above the fields (my first on the Moor this summer). But by far my strangest encounter was coming face-to-beak with a female duck, sticking her head out of the heather. We don’t get many ducks on the Moor!
Male wheatear.
What the duck?
On my way down, I even spotted a few reed buntings on the edge of the Moor. I’ve not seen them up there before.
Male reed bunting.
A very pleasing walk. Albeit a little on the hot side!
Burton Marshes
I visited Burton Marshes on Tuesday last week. My Tuesday afternoon visits there, on the way to my Dad’s, are becoming something of a habit. I just sat in the car for a couple of hours, taking in the view, watching the occasional little egret through my binoculars, and generally chilling out. Just before I left, I was delighted to spot a whitethroat—a relative rarity for me—in the hawthorn a few yards in front of the car. Of course, by the time I’d got my camera out, it had gone. Still, though.
I was back at Burton Marshes this Tuesday. The weather was glorious, so I sat on one of the benches for 15 minutes, trying (unsuccessfully) to spot any of a number of grasshopper warblers I could hear singing their hearts out in the nearby reeds. They realy do sound uncannily like grasshoppers. But no joy.
I then decided to take a short walk up to Burton Point. This turned out to be an excellent decision, as I was soon rewarded with my first proper sighting this summer of a wheatear—several wheatears, in fact. A short while later, I was positively cock-a-hoop to spot three whinchats perched on a bush in a large expanse of sedge, flitting up into the air occasionally after flies. I’m sure I must have seen whinchats before, but I can’t hand-on-heart swear that I have, so chalk one up on my unwritten life list.
Rook.
Wheatear.
Whinchat.
Whinchat.
Little egrets.
There were a few more whinchats farther down the track, and several little egrets flew overhead. On the whole, a delightful and productive short walk.
Gorse.
Burton Point.
Burton Marshes.
As I returned to the car, I was even jammy enough to spot a whitethroat—the same one as last week, I guess—and actually managed to take a couple of snaps. I was particularly pleased with the first one, which I had to focus manually (as I did with some of my earlier whinchat shots) due to there being too much undergrowth in the way for the camera’s autofocus mechanism to deal with.
Whitethroat.
Whitethroat.
Note to self: Try focusing manually more often.
Grange Over Sands
I had a day-trip to Grange Over Sands on Saturday to watch my friend Mike launch the wooden kayak he has just finished building (with a little help from a professional boat-builder). Around 20 of Mike’s friends turned up to watch him splash a small bottle of champagne over the bow of Lynne, named in memory of his long-term partner, and wife of only a few months, who died after a long illness last year.
Mike names his kayak.
It floats!
Some of Mike’s more adventurous friends had brought boats of their own along, so, while they made a brief tour of the Kent Estuary, the rest of us hung around eating pork pies and drinking champagne (a classic combination). I’m sure Lynne would have been very pleased. She was a nice lady.
Canoeists off Grange Over Sands.
Grange Over Sands.
Herring gull.
Oh, and I saw my first swift of the summer, not far from Skipton. It made me happier than was strictly reasonable.