Down at Uskmouth Country Park

The Royal Society for the Protection of reedBeds' 'Come to Newport Wetlands campaign' is having the desired effect - by ten o'clock this morning the place was swimming in grocks walking their dogs/kids/rolls of flab (delete as appropriate) around the reedbeds whilst gabbing at high volume about the lovely weather or moaning about how long the walk to the car-park/'sea' is.

However, one should always attempt to make the best of a bad situation (this actually happened)...

Water Rails: [Squealing their heads off at the end of Reedbed 9]
Grock: Hello, do you know what that noise is?
Me: Yeah, sure, that's the Dwarf Water-pigs,... they escaped from Whitson Zoo years ago.
Grock: Really?
Me: Yeah, the squealing is two males fighting over a territory boundary.
Grock: Oh.
Me: They can be quite aggressive this time of year, I guess it's all the testosterone.
Grock: Oh right.
Me: Best keep the kids on the path.
Grock: Really?
Me: Well, if they charge they can give a nasty nip.
Grock: Oh, [calls to his missus (a rather rotund woman who was watching two overweight kids lobbing stones over the sea-wall)] Clare,... Clare! Tell the kids to stay on the path. [turning back to me] They should put signs up.
Me: Yeah,... I guess most people know they're here.
Grock: Well we didn't, do you work here?
Me: No, I'm just birding.
Grock: Birding?
Water Rails: [more squeals]
Me: [taking a few steps back from the reedbed] Well bye then.
Grock: Er, yes,... thanks.

That duck

It appears that the female aythya hybrid that starred in such fantastic Gwent Birding posts as "She's back", "Look who's back..." and "Wild swan/duck chase" is in residence at the little square concrete pool at Avonmouth. I do believe she is stalking me.

Shooting cats

Three random facts regarding cats (which sprang to mind having chased a bastard feline from the garden with a Goldfinch in its gob):

1. Every year 400,000 cats (feral and not so feral) are shot by hunters in Germany to protect wild birds and game (yay);
2. There are between 50 and 90 million feral cats in the USA (boo);
3. If you play a recording of an irate Scottish Wild Cat at high volume out of your back bedroom window, it scares the living shit out of any moggy in your garden (yay); and
4. Russ Meyer's film "Faster Pussycat Kill! Kill!", is not about killing cats (boo).

They're still here

At least four Brambling in the garden today; a quick 'tickle' with a mist net and "Hey Presto!", three will be winging their way back to Scandinavia with a bit of BTO jewellery.

Instant artistry

The briefest of stops at Ynysyfro paid off with an adult Med Gull. Not having time to waste on photography, I just took a flipping good shot first time, packed up and left. It's hard being as naturally gifted as I am.

All good practice

Bagged very little, even less and buggerall, in roughly that order, at various levels locales,... and then I trod on a bleedin' Pheasant.



Another never to be forgotten day to go down in Gwent birding lore. Gotta love the SD702's pre-roll buffer though, I didn't press record until the bird had all but disappeared, sweet (or at least it will be, when the next bird to leap up at my feet and tear off is a Great Snipe).

Something worth doing

It is going to rain all weekend, so do something useful, avoid a few minutes of the usual shite weekend telly, click here and give your MP a kick in the right direction re the Climate Change Bill. It will take five minutes but the smug feeling of self-satisfaction will last for hours.

Puffin

Found this whilst going through some pics from a trip to Varanger, etc. Presumably the bird is using the nicotine as an appetite suppressant to get it through another season of collapsing fish stocks.

GOSh! How entertaining

Bagged a few Siskins this morning and a Merlin this afternoon, but you don't wanna hear about that, so I'll move swiftly onto the real entertainment,... The GOS AGM. Oh! How much fun can you have in an evening? For those that didn't attend, basically, the AGM consisted of about 100 non-birders (interspersed with a smattering of people who actually go birding) arguing over bird names (yes, that's right, the argument we had throughout the rest of the UK about 15 years ago). It was hilarious and, by the end of proceedings, the camp that started the evening not having heard of the BOU, having no grasp of taxonomy and who wouldn't know a Common Redpoll if it landed on their 50 year old bins, had won the day. You can now look forward to the next report containing such gems as 'Jenny Wren (Winter Wren)', 'Oooh, that difficult brown one (Cetti's Warbler)' and 'Big Seagull (Larus sp.)'.

Perhaps GOS should make up their minds, are their publications for people who are ignorant of all things relating to birds/birding or are they aimed at a slightly more ornithologically educated readership? If the former, perhaps a name change is in order (perhaps drop the 'O') or perhaps a new Gwent Bird Club is needed to cater for people that are actually birders?

Dead dog dip

I can't believe it, got up early, arrived before dawn, scoured the reservoir and still left empty-handed. Not so much as a sniff. Checked the GOS sightings page at lunchtime and there it was, in black and white - dead dog seen bobbing about in the northern end, aaaargh! That is two dips in three days at Llareggub, JT-FC! I imagine this is how it looked...



The only saving grace was having PJ Harvey's most recent offering massaging the ear-lobes on the way thither and hither. The title track is b-e-a-utiful, right up there, with Grandaddy's "He's Simple, He's Dumb, He's the Pilot", vying for the coveted title of 'The best indie folk-laden rock tune in the world EVER!'

PS. Fudge Duck? What Fudge Duck?