Near death experience

It's bloody dangerous out there! One minute I'm blundering about in the early morning half-light/Severn Sea mist, minding my own business (well ringing birds actually), next I know I'm fighting to keep my vital signs from flatlining. Stabbed, impaled actually, claret pissing all over the shop. Luckily, being the quick-witted, always prepared-type that I am, I managed to fight the waves of nausea, dizziness and a strangely enticing vision of the reaper beckoning me to a blissfully pain-free stupor just long enough to reach for the Leatherman and, with gritted teeth and hastily jerry-rigged torniquet in place, I wrenched the stiletto-like corpus alienum from my flesh. Then it was on with the pressure dressing and I'm stuffing my face with sugary morsels to counter the effects of the waves of shock (I'm sure I experienced ventricular tachycardia and arrhythmia and probably lots of other things with long unhealthy sounding names). Thank Christ-on-his-little-Rayleigh-bike I wasn't chucked out of cubs before getting my 'extreme survival badge'; and thank God-and-all-his-evil-impish-foot-soldiers another member of the ringing group was on-hand to drive me home. I think I'm on the mend now although I might need three weeks in some sunny clime to recover properly. Go careful out there folks.

[Oops, almost forgot. Here is a picture of the splinter and another of (what remains) of my finger, warning graphic images below.]



I know, I know, I feel sick just looking at the pictures, I think there might still be something still in there.

PS. In case you haven't already realised, the birding was pretty quiet today.

A little bit harey

Nothing too exciting down on the levels this week, a trickle of passage waders was the only real suggestion of migration. Did bump into a few of these guys though,...

Aberrant Grey Heron

Shot off this evening in search of the reported Purple Heron near Bishton, on arrival it became evident that the bird in question was an odd Grey Heron, either partially melanistic or very heavily soiled. Most of the upperparts were very dark grey and the remiges looked blackish; below, the flanks and part of the breast again appeared blackish whilst much of the belly, breast and neck were tinged an oily/rusty brown. The head and bill were pretty standard Grey Heron, though 'washed' with brownish. It spent most of the time hunched up at the edge of the field and eventually walked off into the field margin, it did not appear a picture of rude health. Unfortunately the weather did not make for quality photography, here's the best I could muster,...


Given the fact that the Purple Heron in Gloucestershire had disappeared a few days ago, I was pretty hopeful of adding to my Gwent list this evening, but nooooo, the curse of Gwent strikes again.

Swearing is fine if it is necessary

The worst thing about doing a bird race is that, for weeks afterwards, you keep seeing all the species missed on the 'big day' (perhaps more accurately the 'mediocre day', in fact perhaps it should have been called a fuck-all race; indeed, while I'm at it, perhaps the new book should have been entitled 'The fuck-all of Gwent'). Anyway, today I was goaded by Red-legged Partridge, Little Owl, Stock Dove and, naturally enough, Sparrowhawk. I was not goaded by Siberian Blue Robin, Siberian Rubythroat or White-throated Robin, in fact I have never been goaded by any one of these species, I find them very ungoadly. If I had to be goaded, I would probably pick one of these to be goaded by. If there is a White-throated Robin reading this, I am awaiting my goading,... goadnight.

PS. Please note I have managed to avoid ranting about fat, ignorant, red and yellow lorry driving wankers who seem to think they live on a planet that is not being totally fucked up by global climate change and biodiversity loss and whose only interest in life is whether the can line their pockets with a few more quid - someone should give me a medal.

PPS. Please also note I have also managed to avoid ranting about fat, ignorant, self-publicising bastard MPs who seem to think they live on a planet that is not being totally fucked up by global climate change and biodiversity loss and whose only interest in life is keeping their seats at the next general election by pandering to drivers of knackered, old, gas-guzzling cars - someone should give me another medal.

Bit of a slow one

A good wander round Uskmouth followed by quick visits to Goldcliff and Llanwern produced VERY little in the way of birds. The most notable 'highlights' were either: botanical, four species of orchid showing well; invertebrate, moffs, odonata, etc.; or mammalian, a lovely ickle baby fox. The only avian joys were, in rough order of joyousness, a brood of Stonechat (there is only one pair on the reserve), a Whimbrel or two, managing to read three metal rings on feral Greylags and the fattest gosling in the world EVER! Thank little baby Jeebus it is going to piss down for the next two days, I can now stay in tweaking my plans for next month's birding blitzkrieg of northern California (the Modoc Plateau or the Warner Mountains or both?).

The amazing singing sheep

Imagine, if you will, a sweeping aerial view, a left-right camera pan through clouds and across snow-covered mountains before dipping into a green, wooded valley with steep cliffs that descend into a snow-fed lake. The hills are perfectly reflected in the mirror-like surface of the water. The camera moves over the landscape, alights on a meadow nestled between the peaks and zooms in to find a happy and joyous Maaaaria (Dolly Andrews) striding across the field in open-armed appreciation of the beauty of the surrounding peaks, she twirls and sings...

Fight! Fight! Fight!

Watched a male Merlin kick seven shades of the sticky stuff out of a Carrion Crow yesterday (well out of county). Feisty little buggers aren't they?

PS. Note to Man plc fans, it'll take you another 18 years to get to five, at which point we'll probably have won eight. Liverpool FC - the true champions of Europe (bitter? Moi?).

I know they're here somewhere

Whilst down at Goldcliff on Sunday I noticed this young Ringed Plover looking for his car keys; he still hadn't found them when I left three and a half hours later. You can tell he's a Ringed, as opposed to LRP, because the black line on the nape doesn't continue round and join across the forehead, other pointers towards Ringed are the lack of an iPod (LRPs don't leave home without them) and Ringed drive Toyotas whereas LRPs prefer Hondas. Finally, if you are still struggling with peewee plover ID, there is usually an adult stood about six feet away.

Pipe and slippers

The result is in (sort of), it is still unofficial but it would appear the other teams got totals of about 108 and 102/103. So, unless some Mugabe-esque recount occurs, we won by a fair chalk/country mile/[add preferred cliche here]. I wonder what the reward is? Will we be able to retire on the prize money? Will we allow the fame to change us? Will we be hounded by the Gwentish tabloid press? Let's hope so.

The final score

It mostly went to plan, crappy weather and a couple of dubious tactical decisions probably cost us a few species, but in general I think we did alright. Given that it took us 45 minutes to register a single species and we dipped on two of our first three targets (largely due to the weather 'up-county'), I'm amazed we didn't retire somewhere around breakfast time. Luckily things picked up and we clocked 80 by about 08:00 and were over the ton before midday. The afternoon then became a battle of attrition and as dusk loomed fatigue was taking its toll. By the time we decided to end the pointless proceedings one team member had a severe limp, another could only stand for short periods and communication was being carried out in shlurred shingle shyllables. We probably should have bagged Little Owl and Water Rail before surrendering but we just couldn't be arsed.

The Gwent day record, which had stood since 1991 (largely due to the fact that no idiot could be bothered to do a bird race in a largely birdless county) had been 111, so we comfortably surpassed that one. Mind you, what with the appearance of the Newport Wetlands since the last attempt, I think we'd have hung up our bins if we hadn't beaten it. As usual a smorgasboard of species eluded us the worst being: Sparrowhawk, Red-legged Partridge, Water Rail, Snipe, Stock Dove, Little Owl, Kingfisher, Grasshopper Warbler, Willow Tit and Lesser Redpoll. Equally predictable, was the fact we stumbled onto one or two birds we hadn't counted on with Little Stint, Arctic Skua, Mediterranean Gull, 'Commic' Tern (does that count?) and Fulmar the 'highlights'. If we had managed to turn an incredibly dull Little Stint into something a bit more interesting it would have helped but reality intervened (it will be interesting to see if any team claims Temminck's at Goldcliff).

I'm guessing, with today's better weather, the teams finishing tonight might have done rather well; we may yet be able to claim the title of 'the briefest holders of a county day record ever'. Will update when I know more...