They’re back!

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After the wettest April on record, the final day of the month dawned spectacularly gorgeous.

A quick trip into Hebden Bridge, where I saw a pair of dippers chasing each other along Hebden Water, then back home and on to the Moor.

Guess who’s back?

Wheatear

Male Wheatear.

I saw three wheatears in all. Two males and a female. The males didn’t seem to be hitting it off. As ever, the birds flitted along the path in front of me, always keeping just a little too far away for some really close-up photos. They are such teases.

Dippers and wheatears: two of my favourite birds in the same morning. Come on, Spring, get your act together!

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Dawn chorus

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I was wide awake in bed at 5am as the dawn chorus began this morning. Mum used to say that the dawn chorus always begins with a lone blackbird. That was certainly the case this morning. It was joined about ten minutes later by a goldfinch, then greenfinches, a dunnock, chaffinches and a robin.

The dawn chorus up here in the bleak Pennines is nothing like the ones of my childhood in the leafy Wirral, but it’s still pretty spectacular, once it gets going.

A right rook-us

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Jen and I took a walk round via Nook Lane this afternoon. As we approached the Lane Ends pub, I spotted a small group of rooks in the field opposite. Two of them were fighting rather violently (on and off), while six to eight others stood round them, watching. One of the fighting rooks clearly had the upper hand. Not that rooks have hands. When we got too close, they all flew off.

I have heard and read of (supposedly) mythical rooks’ parliaments. This was certainly very like what is described—although there were clearly too few rooks to justify calling it a parliament. More of a rooks’ parish council, I suppose.

Wascally wabbit

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A pair of rabbits were hopping around on the other side of the fence behind the house this afternoon. I watched in amusement as the bolder of the two squeezed through the mesh in the fence and began to graze on the freshly mown grass on our back lawn. It is much tastier than field-grass, by all accounts.

Then the rabbit began to dig in the lawn. I decided to leave him to it.

Hail and well-met!

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Writing at home, I am temporarily distracted by a sudden, rather violent, bout of hail striking against the study window. I walk through to the galleried landing to look out of the round barn window for a better view.

A swallow flies by, twisting and turning in the hail. My first of the year. An unexpected, though not unlooked-for, delight!

This is turning out to be a very strange Spring.

Snow

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Wednesday 4th saw a blizzard blow out of nowhere overnight. I struggled to get home from Dad’s. The following day, Maundy Thursday, I was supposed to be working, but Jen sent me a text message as she arrived at work: “Fabulous day for a walk. Get on them hills.” What more excuse did I need?

Snow drift

Snow drift

The snow had mostly gone, but there were still thigh-deep drifts in places, especially alongside walls. On the way up to the moor from Nook Cottages, I had a Mexican stand-off with bolshy sheep. Then I saw the lamb lying lifeless at her feet. She was trying to protect it, poor thing. Out of respect I gave her a wide berth.

On the moor itself, the track was under several inches of snow. Somebody else had been up there before me, heading the other way, so I walked in their footprints to make the going easier. Then I got to a deeper bit, the snow gave way, and I was suddenly stuck to the top of my legs in snow. It took me a full minute to struggle out.

Rabbit footprints

Rabbit footprints

Lapwings were tumbling above the fields below me, and a pair of curlews flew overhead.

The snow was more patchy as I headed up the hill and along the edge to the trig point, skylarks in full song. There is something incongruous about hearing skylarks as you wade through snow. Unlike the weather, they certainly realised that it was supposed to be Spring.

There were lots of rabbit and grouse tracks in the snow. I love walking alongside animal tracks: it’s almost as if they are accompanying you. Time-shifted companions.

Red grouse

Red grouse

On my way back down through the field, the sheep was still there, suckling her ‘dead’ lamb. It hadn’t been lifeless; it had just been born—it was still coated in membrane.

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Birthday walk

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I decided to celebrate my birthday with a walk on the moor. The glorious weather of the last week had, of course, disappeared—but at least it wasn’t raining.

Lots of red grouse around. Whenever they fly away from you, they seem to do so in a long curve, rather than flying directly away from you. I wonder if it is so that they always present their upper half to you, affording them better camouflage. Or maybe it is because they can keep a better eye on you that way. Or maybe something else entirely.

Watched a skylark ascending near the trig point. It must have sung for a good couple of minutes as it rose so high that I lost sight of it amongst the floaters in my eyes. Knackering work for skylarks, singing.

Spotted a lapwing in the field just below the moor. Got some half-decent, albeit heavily cropped photos before it took off. Definitely one of my top-ten birds.

Lapwing

Lapwing.

Then a kestrel hunting over the scrub above the Nook track.

Kestrel

Kestrel.

On the whole, a very pleasant walk.

More photos »

Curlews

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What is supposed to be the end of a week of unseasonably sunny and warm spring days. It was warmer outside the house than inside, so I decided to read my magazine on the seat underneath the kitchen window.

As I opened the sliding door on to the patio, I heard a curlew calling very nearby. I turned to see three of them rising together, less than 15 yards away. They had probably been in the field on the other side of the wall, but, it I more than half suspected that they had actually been feeding on our lawn.

No photos, unfortunately: I didn’t expect to see curlews quite this close.

Spring?

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More like summer. Three days of unseasonably hot, sunny weather, with more promised.

I stood for twenty minutes, leaning over the gate near the compost heap, soaking it up. A couple of butterflies, several bumble-bees, lapwings calling, and a pair of rabbits in the back field. I have been seeing quite a few rabbits there in recent months, which is unusual. I think they might have established a new outpost nearby. They have even been digging in the lawn by the compost heap.

The larger of the two rabbits, which I assume was a male, was very active, hopping back and forth, scratching in the soil, and rubbing his chin against spiky, dead nettle stalks, presumably leaving his scent. The sap is rising. He had a sizeable, ginger, Mohican strip at the back of his neck. Do rabbits usually have these? I have not noticed them before.

It’s about now that I start looking optimistically for swallows, but the earliest I have seen them up here is on my birthday, 2nd April.

Northumberland

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Just back from a week’s holiday in Northumberland in a lovely cottage just ten feet from the beach.

I was particularly delighted to see eider swimming in the bay. Their local name, Cuddy ducks, is in honour of Saint Cuthbert of Northumberland, who is reputed to have had a soft spot for them. We visited Cuthbert’s grave in Durham Cathedral during our break.

Male Eider

Male Eider

We also spotted some whooper swans.

Whooper swans

Whooper swans

… but my best shots of the holiday were undoubtedly of sanderlings:

Sanderlings

Sanderlings

You can see all of my holiday snaps here.

St David’s Day

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The First of March. A glorious, crisp, blue-sky day, so I abandoned my plans for the morning and headed up on to the moor.

I couldn’t believe it: Nature had decided that Spring was on us already. I spotted my first March hare, male skylarks were singing their hearts out high in the sky, and I heard my first curlew calling across the moors.

It’ll be snowing within a week, mark my words.

Skylark

An early skylark.

More photos»

Postscript: It snowed briefly two days later. Then came a heavy hail-storm. It’s not quite Spring yet, despite appearances to the contrary!

Late winter update

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Snowdrop

Early snowdrop.

First update of 2012. What can I say? I’ve been busy.

January began with snowdrops. I spotted my first, under the smaller of our two sycamores on 5th—the earliest snowdrop in our garden ever, I believe. Two days later, and it was decapitated in a storm. But it was a welcome reminder that winters don’t go on forever.

I have taken several walks on the moor. Ice and mud, mainly—and a few stalwart grouse. I also saw a flock of 48 fieldfares. (Yes, I counted them: sad, I know.)

Grouse

A stalwart grouse on 25th January.

Ice-covered heather

Ice-covered heather.

I had a truly astonishing walk up on the moor on 11th February. The area had been hit by frozen ice, so every heather twiglet and blade of grass had been sheathed in ice. It was so cold that the grouse, which I could hear nearby, had taken to hiding instead of flying away—presumably to save energy. They couldn’t have been getting much food, with all the heather frozen.

More photos from my icy walk »

The Moor in Ice

A tundra landscape!

At home, we had our first siskin in the garden. Well, probably not our first—but certainly the first I recognised as a siskin! And we have had a small number of fieldfares and redwings in the front field, although those seem to have returned to Scandinavia now.

Then, this Tuesday, I was in the kitchen making a brew, when there was a tremendous crash against the window next to the bird-feeder. A sparrowhawk, I guessed. I ran over to the window, but there was no sign of anything, save for a few small feathers stuck to the window. But the blackbirds in the garden were going ballistic: they had clearly seen what had happened. I went back upstairs to work, but, 45 minutes later, I realised that the blackbirds were still going ballistic. I went to investigate, and found a little owl sitting in the thorn tree, getting mobbed by chaffinches. I managed to fire off a single, poorly exposed photo before it flew off.

Little owl

Little owl

I later read that little owls do indeed eat small birds. They also seem to have stolen a trick from sparrowhawks, and taken to ambushing small birds at feeders.

There are definite signs that spring is on the way. Our garden robin has taken to singing very vocally before sunrise, and is starting to get a bit bolshy. So I’m hoping I should be able to start giving more regular updates in this journal in the near future.

December update

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Nothing much happening on the natural history front. A mixture of very wet weather and a guest staying with us over the New Year period meant that I haven’t managed to get out much.

I did, however, manage my 24th consecutive Christmas Eve ascent of Moel Famau in North Wales. As I stood drinking tea with my friend Carolyn and her family at the top, we were treated to a spectacular view of a merlin semi-circling the summit before dipping behind a wall. Carolyn’s oldest seemed far more impressed that a bird had the same name as one of her favourite TV characters than by the bird itself.

The midwinter storms have brought plenty of gulls inland to Hebden Bridge. If the weather here is a relief for the gulls, I can’t imagine what it must be like on the coast.

First sighting(s)!

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No updates for a while. I have been busy, and the weather has been pretty abysmal. But I do have some recent sightings to report:

On 21st November, we had a day-trip out to Whitby. Walking along the pier, I spotted a bird fishing about 100 yards away. It was not a cormorant. I then overheard a chap behind me, who had a massive telephoto lens, tell his companion that it was a red-throated diver. Of course, by the time I got my own lens out, the bird had disappeared. This would have been my first red-throated diver, but I don’t think it really counts, as I didn’t see it well enough to be able to confirm the stranger’s identification. I did, however, managed to get rather close to some turnstones!

Turnstones

Turnstones

And then, this Tuesday, I visited Burton Marshes. Before I had even turned off my car’s engine, I spotted a rook half-heartedly mobbing something. I grabbed my spare binoculars from the glove box and was treated to two minutes worth of female hen harrier flying back and forth, hunting above the reeds. She was only about 50 years away. Fabulous views—and my first absolutely definite hen harrier. But, unfortunately, my camera was in the boot!

After the harrier had gone, I got out the car and got my camera ready, just in case she returned. Then I spotted some birdwatchers watching something through their telescopes a long way off. I’m pretty sure it was another harrier, but it really was a long way away. But, as I was watching, a short-eared owl appeared from the north and flew towards me. And this time I even managed to bag some photos as it hunted in pretty much the same place as the hen harrier had!

Short-eared owl

Short-eared owl

Not bad for 10 minutes’ bird-watching.

… Oh, nearly forgot: I also took a rather nice photo of a stonechat:

Stonechat

Stonechat

Other photos from Whitby »
Other photos from Burton Marshes »

Feeder encounter

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Shortly before gloaming this afternoon, I realised that the bird-feeders in the garden must be empty, so I went to refill them. Having made some long-put-off, simple repairs to the bird-table, involving a few cable-grips, I replenished its feeders, plus the one by the kitchen window, then went to do the same to the feeder hanging from the cherry tree.

I was half-way through filling the last feeder, when I heard a high-pitched seep! call from the adjacent thorn tree. I was fairly sure it was my first redwing of the winter, but, look as I might, I couldn’t spot it—even though it obligingly continued to seep!

Then a blaze of activity, and a sparrowhawk landed in the tree about ten feet from me: slate-grey—a male. The presumed redwing went very quiet. Amazingly, the sparrowhawk had not seen me. He sat there for a good minute, annoyingly obscured by twigs, before he took off and headed back the way he had come, accompanied by a final taunting seep! from the thorn tree.

No photograph, obviously, so here is one I took of a more successful sparrowhawk a few years back:

Sparrowhawk

A sparrowhawk near my bird-feeder in April, 2007.

Hardcastle Crags, Autumn

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A crisp, bright autumn day, so I thought I’d better head off to the woods before some stupid wind comes along and makes it into winter.

I went to Hardcastle Crags, concentrating on the photography side, this time, rather than looking for wildlife—although I did get a pretty good (but far too dark for photography) view of a pair of dippers, and an enormous frog. I was quite pleased with some of my photos, but it’s hard to go wrong on a glorious autumn day in the woods.

Hardcastle Crags, Autumn

Hardcastle Crags, Autumn

One thing I’ve noticed about photography: if you go out with a fancy camera, people ignore you; but if you go out with a fancy camera on a tripod, everyone suddenly wants to talk with you. (Note to self: Leave tripod at home next time!)

Lots more photos here »

Bog walk

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A crisp, autumnal day, with lots of unseasonable sunshine. I decided to try out the new waterproofing on my old boots by taking a longer walk than usual, up to the trig point and then across the bog to the ventilation shafts.

I was delighted to see yet another late wheatear just beyond the trig point. I am now point-blank refusing to describe any wheatear I see as most likely being the last one I see this year.

There were quite a few red grouse around, and I startled more than one of them (and vice versa) by getting really close to them without realising.

Red grouse

A startled red grouse

The boots held up quite well, but I’m reserving judgement until they have had a sterner test in full rain.

More photos »