Ooooooo, how arty!

Found a nice method for converting to black and white in Photoshop this evening, I think I'd stumbled over it before but forgotten all about it. Anyhoo, two hue/saturation adjustment layers, some judicious smart sharpening and ten minutes later...


Of course Blogger bollocks it up by automatically sharpening it to hell and back, but you get a hint of my masterly use of light and texture (ahem). I might even try it on a decent pic one day.

I might actually go birding tomorrow; there must be a Pallas' or Firecrest or something mildly interesting out there somewhere.

Tseeeeep

A few Redwings seemed to be going down valley this evening, so accompanying muttley on his nightly ramble wasn't a complete waste of time.


Should you ever feel the need to slow traffic on a busy road, stand on a bridge and point a camera at the passing cars, seems to work wonders.

Fireworks

The Aberqwimcumcarn valley has been resonating to the sound of fireworks ever since my return from sunnier climes. I guess tonight's are in celebration of a bungling, 400 year old, religion-inspired terrorist cell; and perhaps yesterday's were marking the arrival of America's new messiah. But what were the grubby little oiks celebrating with all the other evenings' whizzes, fizzes and pops?

On the Obama front, it's nice to know it is possible for the Republicans to lose a race for the presidency. Surely, if the Democrats had engineered a defeat this time there would have been civil war. I'd have thought the definition of a political 'shoe-in' probably involves fighting an election against a party presiding over economic armageddon and an unpopular war (or two), and against a rival who chooses a running mate best described as an ill-educated borderline nutter - but the gap was still only 6.1% of votes cast. In excess of 56 million Americans wanted 'more of the same',... eeep!


Downtown Aberqwimcumcarn, a pretty sight,... if you drive through at 80 mph.

PS. With regard to yesterday's postscript - I lied.

Groan

This evening the girlfriend admitted to not knowing who Alfred Russel Wallace was,... I should sack her. Poor old Alfred, a collosus of evolutionary thought, local hero and a notably nifty nibbler of Nobby's nuts, cast into the fetid slurry pit of historical also-rans; the collected works of Craig Revel Horwood are more popular with some people in this house.

And now, the first in a gripping new regular feature, 'interesting facts about forgotten giants of science'...

Interesting facts about forgotten giants of science number one - despite being born at Llanbradoc, near Usk, Wallace was English (albeit with some Scottish paternal ancestry) as Monmouthshire resided on the less rainy side of the border in those days.

And now, the first in another gripping new regular feature, 'red herrings about forgotten giants of science'...

Red herrings about forgotten giants of science number one - the assertion that Alfred Russel Wallace was a "notably nifty nibbler of Nobby's nuts" may well be based on less than firm foundations, it might be 'a fact' but probably not a true one.

PS. I promise to get back to birds in the next post.

Too cold to go out...

The body and mind are yet to acclimatize to being back in shitesville. So I'll stay in, listen to some tunes, read a few books and muck about on the Mac. Here's another pic from Corvo to keep you going...


I await correction on my French usage and abusage.

Roll on 2009?

Left Terceira this morning and, after a brief stop in Lisbon, ended up standing at a freezing Heathrow waiting for my ride. Another successful Azorean jaunt completed, let's hope the tour groups sniffing around don't balls-up future years by filling Corvo's limited accommodation with useless tossers expecting to saunter round ticking yanks at every turn. During my stay, the team put in something like 1,500 birding hours producing two new megas (White-eyed Vireo and Black-throated Green) and it took us 10 days to nail down the sapsucker, despite birding its chosen valley every day. If the island gets booked out by numpties expecting Fair Isle-esque conditions and nicely manicured paths (as opposed to sub-tropical secondary growth woodland on ankle-mangling slopes) it may well result in half the parulidae going unfound. Let us hope the Corvo phenomenon isn't buggered by those looking to cash-in on Mr Alfrey's discovery.


Just the sort of image that would attract bird-spotting twats to Corvo.

Last knockings

Flew off Corvo at lunchtime and spent the evening in Cabo da Praia quarry. This year has been pretty quiet at this, the premier Western Palearctic site for Nearctic waders, and only produced Semi-palmated, White-rumped and Pec Sands plus Semi-palmated Plovers. Not bad, but not the range or number of species found in here over the last couple of years. It is a classic birding location though, an oil refinery on one side, fly-tipped crap dotted here and there, and the primary viewpoint consists of the remains of a construction compound complete with rusting storage containers and dilapidated security fencing, aesthetically it's right up there with some of the finer sewage works of this world.

The final full day

Three hours at the Black-throated Green site this morning produced nothing more than a slightly perturbed Woodcock. The da Ponte quarry was similarly barren but a wander back down toward Villa do Corvo resulted in my second American Great White Egret for the trip,... which was nice.

Best day of the trip?

Refound the Yellow-bellied Sapsucker this morning and, after a few frantic minutes of headless chickenry, another half dozen birders scored before it disappeared once again, hotly pursued by the local Chaffinch mafia. Managed to get quiet recordings of both feeding taps (at around 30 secs and 1 min) and calls (at around 3 mins 28 secs) amongst the general melee...

[Two warnings on this one: a. it is a large file; and b. if you can speak French be warned of some upcoming language grossièr]



Spent the rest of the morning failing to relocate the vireo before news from Flores produced ideal conditions for the most fun-filled dip in history. The frigatebird sp. had spent all morning at Santa Cruz so we decided to charter a boat. The trip over was a race across 15 miles of sun-drenched Atlantic swell in a 25 foot rib (wind in the hair, sun at one's back, blah, blah, blah...). Then followed a couple of hours sat drinking ice tea, coffee, etc. at the Buena Vista Cafe whilst the bird singularly failed to play ball. The real fun was the trip back though, in the gathering gloom and rising wind, 12 birders bounced back to base through rafts of Cory's, rain squalls and spray as Villa do Corvo shone in the distance (at least when the increasingly lumpy ocean wasn't spoiling the view). I think my enduring memories will be Pierre doing his finest impression of Washington crossing the Delaware, Stuart being pitched back and fore on a makeshift space-hopper and the sad demise of Peter's Che hat. All jolly good fun and we were safely back in time for tea.

Sloooooow day

No sapsucker, and precious little else. Sperm Whale and both Common and Bottle-nosed Dolphins were probably the best 'birds'.


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