Luxury mixed dried fruit

As there just aren't enough awful photographs of locally scarce birds online,...

A spring Storm Petrel, doesn't happen every year. 

Red-breasted Mergansers, which also don't happen every year; seemingly two males, one undergoing a retarded first pre-breeding moult, the other following a more standard schedule. 

A Saturday evening of skuas and Kittiwakes and Arctic Tern and Fulmar and Storm Petrel, oh my! And a Sunday morning of very little at all saved by the reappearance of the two mergansers pretty much made up the weekend. And then it was home to a freshly baked fruit-cake. Oh yeeeeah!

In the western woods

Once upon a time there was a birder who pottered about in the western woods.  One day a Wood Warbler, through a heady mix of pride and the allure of fame, flaunted itself in front of the birder's recording gear.  Unfortunately, though as per bloody usual, the warbler inhabited a less than perfect auditory environment but, as that describes 99.9% of the planet now (and we no longer live in a world where wishing these things away works), the birder didn't see any point in holding that against him and captured the warbler's voice for posterity because, as the birder reasoned, chances are the little silvery triller will be netted, or limed, or shot, or otherwise face his untimely demise in the grubby hands of some 'orrible ugly human before he gets to return next year. 

Sip sip sip sip sip sip sip sip sip sip sip sip sip-sip-sip-sip-sip-sip-sip-sip-sip-sip-sip-sip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip-ip

 

Tyuu tyu tyu tyu tyu tyu tyu tyu tyu tyu

IDCD, you can get pills for that

The annual International Dawn Chorus Day walk at the Newport Wetlands was met with a strangely subdued effort by the birds in and around the reedbeds.  Heard most of the regulars, and had a single Grasshopper Warbler, but both the quantity of song and intensity of delivery was a all a bit meh.  Luckily, a brief (very brief for me) sighting of an Otter saved the day, at least for those that reacted sharpish on hearing the finders' call and managed to get on it as it slunk off into the reeds.  A flippin' patch tick,... and a furry one at that!  

You hum it, he'll play it

A week of middle lands, uplands, uplands, lowlands and uplands. Highlights, mostly outside Gwent, included: singing Firecrest, tonnes of Wheatear and Redstart, slightly fewer tonnes of Tree Pipit, a good few Lapwing and Whinchat, a not-so-good few bubbling Curlew and drumming Snipe and, finally, single Red Kite, Peregrine, Yellow Wagtail and Wood Warbler. 

The dead included shot Rooks and Jackdaw, a two-headed sheep, and the ghost of a Lapwing.

However, the best of the best was discovering a musical horse playing, with some panache, the string/percussion fusion instrument that is the squeaky fencepost and wire. Seemed to be having a whale of a time and, very generously, even let me have a go.

Knit one, purl one

I have never seen a lamb in an ill-fitting jumper, their nans must really know how to knit.

PS. As of mid-morning today, all the regularly breeding warblers in Gwent have danced across my glazed stare or tickled my jaded ear.  They have all arrived in one's birding sphere for the year, they are all present and correct.  Well done them.  Now,... to find one of the less regular variety.

More muckle

A second morning of pottering in search of Cetti's Warblers produced: 1 Marsh Harrier, 1 Redstart, 2 Grasshopper Warbler, 11 Whimbrel, 1 or 2 Cuckoo, another 5 Lesser Whitethroat and approximately 25 Swift. Regarding the main quarry species, the weekend's efforts located just short of 30 territories.

The high high tide meant these guys were attempting to roost along the bottom of the sea-wall, of course, the Severn estuary is one of their most important staging posts, I wonder what impact the Wales Coast Path has been having today.

 Where the Whinchat wasn't.

DICK IT!

A trawl of Uskmouth to map the Cetti's Warblers produced a reasonably predictable bycatch of 2-3 Grasshopper Warblers, 1 Whinchat, 1 Cuckoo, 8 Swift, 5 Lesser Whitethroat, 9 Whimbrel and 2 Wheatear.  One borderline proper notable was the Red Kite which drifted slowly overhead just as I filled my memory card.  As I fiddled for a replacement, it lazily, oh-so-lazily, circled directly over my head before slowly, oh-so-slowly, moving off west just as I'd remedied the data storage situation.  What.  A.  Dick. 

Probably the best views I have had of this species in Gwent.  DICK!

Four days in the field

Three days in low fields, one day in high fields, though no days in Gwent fields.  Finally caught up with the likes of Whinchat, Whitethroat, Sedge Warbler, Reed Warbler, Common Sandpiper, etc.  Tonnes of Wheatear dropping in and out, and managed half a dozen butterfly species - outrageous!  Still no odonata though,... not one. 

On the dead front, a big-bloaty-floaty Water Vole and a shiny-black-tarmac-flat Mole.  

Three days in the hills

Redstart, Wheatear, dead sheep, Redstart, Wheatear, dead sheep, Redstart, Wheatear, dead sheep, Stonechat, Redstart, Wheatear, dead sheep, Redstart, Wheatear, dead sheep, Tree Pipit, Tree Pipit, Tree Pipit, dead sheep, Curlew, Redstart, Wheatear, dead sheep, Redstart, Wheatear, dead sheep, Redstart, Wheatear, dead sheep, Curlew, Redstart, Wheatear, dead sheep, Redstart, Wheatear, dead sheep, Stonechat, Redstart, Wheatear, dead sheep, Redstart, Wheatear, dead sheep, Redstart, Wheatear, dead Hedgehog.

The passing of a slice

For those for whom cake is an integral part of their lives, the last slice of a moist Vicky sponge, now dearly departed.

Now he belongs to the ages. He is not mine, he is the world's. He belongs not to our age, but to all ages. And yet, even though he belongs to all time and to all peoples, he is our own, for he was,... quintessentially,... cake.

*sob*