Kill the cake. Cut its throat.

Two days of venturing into the field.  Caldicot Moor, Magor Marsh and Boat Lane yesterday and the incomparable Ynys-y-fro Reservoir today.  And what do we have to show for our efforts?  Not. A. Lot.  Precisely zero Golden Plover with the c.400 strong flock of Lapwing on Caldicot Moor.  Very little at Magor Marsh except a female Stonechat.  One Golden Plover over the grasslands near Boat Lane.  And finally, one male Goosander, one female Goldeneye, two female Teal and three Shoveler at Ynys-y-fro.  Birding in Gwent is not a megafest right now,... no, no, no, it's not, it isn't and it ain't. 

Back to the cake and the chocolates,...

Look! We’ve killed a cake—we stole up on it—we got in a circle—we crept up—the cake squealed—we hit the cake—I fell on top—I cut the cake’s throat,... you should have seen it!

Watery heavens and Ls

Visited what could/should be two of Gwent's premier wetlands today, Llandegfedd Reservoir and the lower valley of the River Usk.  No sign of the reported diver sp. at the reservoir and little else of note except five Goldeneye and the emerging skeletal form of Dwr Cymru's new visitor/watersports centre.  A visit to most of the vantage points along the valley between Usk and Newbridge-on-Usk didn't produce as much as it should have either; despite all the flooding, the highlights were just a healthy dose of common larid and five Bewick's Swans.  If the Usk Valley was managed as a nature reserve/flood alleviation area/carbon sink it would be a flipping gem of a site. 

The moist valley bottom of the River Usk as seen looking east from Llandowlais (click on the image for the larger version).  On the opposite side sits Llanllowell, a hamlet with more Ls than houses.  Also dotted along this stretch are Llanusk, Llanbadoc, Llantrisant and Llangibby.  According to local legend, all the Ls originated from place names further upstream, torn from their towns and villages during a prehistoric flood and, in some cases, borne hundreds of miles on the torrent before being washed up where the valley widened and the river's mind began to wander.  I guess this explains the comparative lack of Ls in Gilwern and Govilon, and why it was necessary for the English to add a second L to Crickhowell.  Of course, the tale does raise questions regarding the origin of the valley's voiceless alveolar lateral fricatives, I mean, all these places have got them and they can't have had them before.  Did they survive the trip adhered to each storm-tossed letter?  Are they the natural result of two unprotected Ls rubbing up against one another?  Are there invisible swarms of them in the Welsh skies silently waiting to alight whenever two Ls are placed in close proximity?  We may never know, someone should do a PhD on this sort of thing and find out.

Random crap to fill the void

The top few strata of my ever-growing mountain of Nikwax® Analogy® and Parameta®, Pertex® Endurance, GORE-TEX® Pro, Pontetorto® Tecnopile® Double and Tecnostretch®, eVent®, etc., etc. [Are there enough ®s there?] 

As some smug anonymous git once said,

"There's no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing."

Or, as I often say,

"It's only Gwent out there, just stay indoors in the warm and dry."

[Note: currently 'top-of-the-pile' is my Paramo Velez Adventure Light Smock; it's the bees bollocks, ethically produced, lifetime guaranteed, warm, dry, rustle-free and it makes you look like you're in the army,... squeeeeee!  And that, ladles and gentlespoons, is the closest you'll ever get to 'as endorsed by Gwentbirding'.] 

Lunchtime cutie

A pre-lunch tweet from the Newport Wetland Reserve's "resident expert" [Don't blame me, that's what it says here] put in train the usual febrile chain of events that, via a rapid passage through a speed smeared landscape (complete with the scootage of roundabouts and the emergency application of the amber light rule*), soon saw one applying the brakes at the location of a nice new shiny bird for one's Gwent list. And it looked a bit like this,...

A rather attractive male Penduline Tit in the sun, the first to have knowingly graced a Gwentish Bulrush.

A rather attractive male Penduline Tit in the gloom. It's in there,... somewhere.

* The amber light rule: every light on a standard UK traffic light is amber or immediately adjacent to amber and, under emergency conditions and by applying the undeniable truth that you can only be 'one colour out', can be treated as amber.

And now, the end is here,...

Managed to get off on Friday, got a surprisingly decent amount of kip in Lisbon airport and rolled over the Severn Saturday afternoon. Perhaps not a vintage season but a stand out bird and a few grip-backs. I'm going to blame illness for my lack of form, not sure I even scraped mid-table mediocrity. At some point there'll be more photos and ramblings on all things Corvo but, for now, it is back to the blankness of the page, the itching of the skin, the blaring of the music, and a slight wooziness caused by rain seeping in through the ear.

Stefan, Vincent, plane.

Hat-trick

Plane cancelled at lunchtime, watching my third Black-throated Green Warbler (of 4 [four] that have occurred on Corvo) by mid-afternoon.  Silver linings, silver linings.  The wee fella remained flitting about in the canopy, thus negating any chance I had of getting even the ropeyist of record shots but you can't have everything.  It did cross my mind that I have also seen three of the four Black-throated Blue Warblers which have graced this fairest isle.  There really should be some kind of 'swapsies' system in this WP listing game.

Forgot to share this masterpiece of the Black-throated Green Warbler with you,... slightly better images by Mika (who also found the wee canopy dweller) can be seen here.

A little windypops

The plane didn't come. Something to do with a little bit too much wind. Still howling around out here.

Bumped into the Indigo Bunting this afternoon, which actually seems to be different to that which was über-flushed the other day.  Also pottered around the village this evening on crashed cagarro patrol, only one was found, which is almost certainly a good thing.

Much effort, nothing new

Melancholy is a demon that haunts our island. The black birds are upon our backs. Our dusky companions press upon us, and follow us in our flight,... or something like that.

Is that a mojo on the horizon?

Finally blundered into an American passerine today. And a most awe-inspiring, aesthetically pleasing, gob-smackingly gorgeous one it was too. Unfortunately, for the Corvo-cum-latelies who needed it, moments after I found and photographed it, a bloke rolled up with a chainsaw and started chopping up the wood pile it had been sat on. Possibly, the most impressive flush of all time. It was, however, eventually relocated late in the afternoon on the opposite side of the village. Also relocated the Scarlet Tanager this morning, which was nice, albeit that also did a bunk before anyone else laid eyes on it.

Indigo Bunting, bit of a Corvo special.

New birds

A Scarlet Tanager and an interesting White-crowned Sparrow appeared today. There is hope after a couple of slooow days.

Probable/possible/maybe western taiga/Gambel's/gambelii White-crowned Sparrow [photo from 21st, during the less-than-perfect initial viewing I had totally missed the 'western' potential]. Is it possible to rule out an intergrade with eastern taiga/leucophrys? Answers on a blog comment/postcard/talk amongst yourselves.