First sight of snow free ground and blue sky made me decide to head out on the Coddington circuit today, pretty pleased to see a yellowhammer as I went over the A1 bridge. There's not much in the world yellower than a yellowhammer's head!
Also enjoying snow free ground today would be raptors, giving them a better chance of hunting than the recent terrible weather has given them. I was saying to myself as I went over the aofrementioned A1 bridge "I wonder if there's a kestrel in the trees here" and lo! one appeared flying swiftly left to right across the road.
After a bit of a haul up the hill into the back of Coddington - I'm not used to running on hills at the moment - I saw a buzzard just flying into land in the stand of trees at the entrance to the village. Only it didn't land. It stretched it's wings out wide, white underwing marking showing plainly in the bright light, and turned into the wind looking for any kind of thermal to soar on. I didn't rate it's chances as good, despite the blue sky and bright sun, but if there was any rising air to find, the Buzzard would find it.
No other bird I'm likely to see around here commands the skies like a buzzard. Thousands of feet up they circle, and can probably read the logos on my trainers...
Showing posts with label Birding. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Birding. Show all posts
Sunday, 27 January 2013
Thursday, 27 December 2012
Happy Christmas! But I'm Still Walking and Running
So, after a muddy pre xmas eve with the pretty mystery birds I'm told were probably Bramblings, xmas eve itself was a day off.
Christmas Day I walked for an hour first thing in the morning to look for interesting things at London Road lake and to have a look at the floods. Well London Road Lake was full of folk feeding the ducks - a fair few Tufteds in evidence and that odd domestic duck that has settled in with the mallards.
The floods were, well, floody. The path across Riverside Park was blocked completely by water a good 8 feet over its normal level at least. No interesting life forms about, but it was a beautiful feeling to be out walking on Christmas Day, on a crisp, grey morning and nothing to do AND THUS NO STRESS!
Boxing Day was a proper 7 plus miles, round and abouts, usually through thick mud. Balderton Lake was quiet, with a solitary and rather black looking Great Crested Grebe cruising the East side of the lake. I headed past London Road Lake with all the usual suspects, then found some pretty glorious mud as I headed up to Beacon Hill and onto the reserve, where an unhelpful middle oldster told me not to go on. "You can't go there it's full of mud". Well, I was on a mission to find those bramblings again, and as I squelched along I was hoping to flush them out again. No joy however, and all was quiet apart from a few Great Tits in the copse past the nursery.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow will be a better day.
Christmas Day I walked for an hour first thing in the morning to look for interesting things at London Road lake and to have a look at the floods. Well London Road Lake was full of folk feeding the ducks - a fair few Tufteds in evidence and that odd domestic duck that has settled in with the mallards.
The floods were, well, floody. The path across Riverside Park was blocked completely by water a good 8 feet over its normal level at least. No interesting life forms about, but it was a beautiful feeling to be out walking on Christmas Day, on a crisp, grey morning and nothing to do AND THUS NO STRESS!
Boxing Day was a proper 7 plus miles, round and abouts, usually through thick mud. Balderton Lake was quiet, with a solitary and rather black looking Great Crested Grebe cruising the East side of the lake. I headed past London Road Lake with all the usual suspects, then found some pretty glorious mud as I headed up to Beacon Hill and onto the reserve, where an unhelpful middle oldster told me not to go on. "You can't go there it's full of mud". Well, I was on a mission to find those bramblings again, and as I squelched along I was hoping to flush them out again. No joy however, and all was quiet apart from a few Great Tits in the copse past the nursery.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow will be a better day.
Sunday, 23 December 2012
Aha, a little mystery bird on Beacon Hill Reserve
Today, as a premature penance for xmas overeating, I bolted out into a nice sunny afteroon on a mild day spolit only by a pretty fearsome wind.
Sadly heavy waterlogging has taken Clay Lane out, so after watching a robin carry out a vicious mugging on one of his fellows at a birdtable next to the London Road lake cycle path, I had to take the rather boring Beacon Hill Road route to the nature reserve.
T'was worth it though, for as I ran along a rather muddy path wondering if I should see anything of note, a flock of birds suddenly erupted out of the scrubby cover that is covering the oil seed rape field section of the reserve at the moment.
I saw a lot of pale to white undersides, so my first instinct was "Oooh, flock of Fieldfares. Nice" - then I realised that they were far too small, and far too finchlike. Indeed the impression I had as they flew up into the top of the trees, was of a flock of about 50-60 very slimline finches with longish tails, and an impression of white wing and tail bars like a chaffinch.
Damn the fading light - it was 330pm by this time. The birds were pale underneath, with an orange-pink breast, but couldn't get a good view of much else.
Was thinking about them as I completed my route, along a very bank bursted Newark Dyke where the Barge pub is yards offshore and The Sonning pleasure cruiser appears to be parked up on the bank. The Moorings has booms and an emergency pump in manned by orange Hi Vizzes. The island is about a third it's normal size, the weir has no drop, just a brown foaming torrent.
Still thought about the birds as I tweeted about them, and wiki'd possible candidates. And wrote this article. My current feeling is 70:30 Whinchat:Brambling. But, as I know only too well, I know very little...
Sadly heavy waterlogging has taken Clay Lane out, so after watching a robin carry out a vicious mugging on one of his fellows at a birdtable next to the London Road lake cycle path, I had to take the rather boring Beacon Hill Road route to the nature reserve.
T'was worth it though, for as I ran along a rather muddy path wondering if I should see anything of note, a flock of birds suddenly erupted out of the scrubby cover that is covering the oil seed rape field section of the reserve at the moment.
I saw a lot of pale to white undersides, so my first instinct was "Oooh, flock of Fieldfares. Nice" - then I realised that they were far too small, and far too finchlike. Indeed the impression I had as they flew up into the top of the trees, was of a flock of about 50-60 very slimline finches with longish tails, and an impression of white wing and tail bars like a chaffinch.
Damn the fading light - it was 330pm by this time. The birds were pale underneath, with an orange-pink breast, but couldn't get a good view of much else.
Was thinking about them as I completed my route, along a very bank bursted Newark Dyke where the Barge pub is yards offshore and The Sonning pleasure cruiser appears to be parked up on the bank. The Moorings has booms and an emergency pump in manned by orange Hi Vizzes. The island is about a third it's normal size, the weir has no drop, just a brown foaming torrent.
Still thought about the birds as I tweeted about them, and wiki'd possible candidates. And wrote this article. My current feeling is 70:30 Whinchat:Brambling. But, as I know only too well, I know very little...
Wednesday, 10 October 2012
Willy Wagtails and UFO Geese
Now that there is a distinct chill in the air, never more noticeable than when I cycle to work at 6am, the Pied Wagtails have descended in large numbers to brighten up a gloomy writer.
My mother calls them Willy Wagtails, no idea why, or if this is a generally accepted common name for these twitching, black and white smart little birds. But it suits them rather admirably I'd say, a polite little bird with dress and manners out of another century.
The best time to see them at the moment is 630pm, when I leave the Warehouse after another eleven and a half hours of daydreaming of not being there. The piping whistle gives them away before you look up and see them massing over the warehouse roof against a darkening indigo sky, long tails like tiny black comets; flight undulating like a sine wave. And then as you cycle away, you see them massing on the ground expertly dodging the cars, sitting on the fences, and swooping in little groups Starling like before pulling away at the last minute from the bushes by the lorry park where they seem to have a mass roost.
There is beauty to be found in every brown field wasteland or macadamised car park. If you are strolling by The Bell pub in Slab Square in Nottingham, take a look at the trees outside, especially when they have the christmas tree lights up. There's hundreds of Wagtails in there!
The other fun thing I've been noticing during my late night astronomy sessions - sadly misted out last night before midnight - are fleets of mysterious grey UFOs coming over, eerily lit in the moonlight. Flying in V shaped echelons, their engines emit a mysterious gentle honking noise- my god, what kind of propulsion systems are they using???!!! - and they have a long cockpit section and a chubby fuselage.
Things look different indeed by night. A woodpigeon went by the other night that looked like a giant Vampire Bat by the full moon.
My mother calls them Willy Wagtails, no idea why, or if this is a generally accepted common name for these twitching, black and white smart little birds. But it suits them rather admirably I'd say, a polite little bird with dress and manners out of another century.
The best time to see them at the moment is 630pm, when I leave the Warehouse after another eleven and a half hours of daydreaming of not being there. The piping whistle gives them away before you look up and see them massing over the warehouse roof against a darkening indigo sky, long tails like tiny black comets; flight undulating like a sine wave. And then as you cycle away, you see them massing on the ground expertly dodging the cars, sitting on the fences, and swooping in little groups Starling like before pulling away at the last minute from the bushes by the lorry park where they seem to have a mass roost.
There is beauty to be found in every brown field wasteland or macadamised car park. If you are strolling by The Bell pub in Slab Square in Nottingham, take a look at the trees outside, especially when they have the christmas tree lights up. There's hundreds of Wagtails in there!
The other fun thing I've been noticing during my late night astronomy sessions - sadly misted out last night before midnight - are fleets of mysterious grey UFOs coming over, eerily lit in the moonlight. Flying in V shaped echelons, their engines emit a mysterious gentle honking noise- my god, what kind of propulsion systems are they using???!!! - and they have a long cockpit section and a chubby fuselage.
Things look different indeed by night. A woodpigeon went by the other night that looked like a giant Vampire Bat by the full moon.
Thursday, 13 September 2012
Swallows make me less bereft
Ran out to Coddington and back today, out the back way, back along the Sleaford road. And up on the top of the back of Beacon Hill, on Balderton Lane (by the converted Windmill that sits there insulting me knowing I'll never be able to afford to live somewhere cool like that) I saw some swallows swooping low over the fields.
Higher up, some House Martins were about too.
I was very glad to see them, it made me feel less miserable about the end of my little holiday from work, and the summer of 2012 in general. I'd seen some in Norfolk by the coast the the other day, lining up on power lines, teasing me knowing they will soon be off for warmer climes. But they didn;t count. Not seen any in town for a few weeks.
But in a week or two, I'm guessing they will be gone, and gloom descends, early morning starts and stars in cold winds, no sun, Orion blazing out of a freezing sky.
Also saw a blue hooped dragonfly out my living room window, buzzing round my Holly Tree. He'll be goners too, soon, whatever kind of Hawker he was.
The time of year makes me sad. In every way.
Higher up, some House Martins were about too.
I was very glad to see them, it made me feel less miserable about the end of my little holiday from work, and the summer of 2012 in general. I'd seen some in Norfolk by the coast the the other day, lining up on power lines, teasing me knowing they will soon be off for warmer climes. But they didn;t count. Not seen any in town for a few weeks.
But in a week or two, I'm guessing they will be gone, and gloom descends, early morning starts and stars in cold winds, no sun, Orion blazing out of a freezing sky.
Also saw a blue hooped dragonfly out my living room window, buzzing round my Holly Tree. He'll be goners too, soon, whatever kind of Hawker he was.
The time of year makes me sad. In every way.
Tuesday, 22 May 2012
Poplar Woods, Hawton
Yesterday, I ran out to Hawton Village and into the Forestry Commision site at Poplar Woods, Hawton;
http://www.flickr.com/photos/matthewbradley/6195979486/
And basically tried to run round the whole thing! It's huge, a bit boggy, evidently well churned up by horses, and didn't really find very much to look at apart from a Buzzard circling the regimented rows of Poplars. But it felt a little bleak. The signs of life came when you got away from the wood, running alongside the fields of rape where the Yellowhammers erupt from hedges.
The fishing lakes at Cotham end were alive with Swallows, flocking above the water or swooping low above the yellow flowers. Pretty.
Pretty knackered, was I when I finished this Eleven Mile run. But, Cream Crackered Nature is what this blog is called, and getting cream crackered is what I do to bring you content, dear readers.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/matthewbradley/6195979486/
And basically tried to run round the whole thing! It's huge, a bit boggy, evidently well churned up by horses, and didn't really find very much to look at apart from a Buzzard circling the regimented rows of Poplars. But it felt a little bleak. The signs of life came when you got away from the wood, running alongside the fields of rape where the Yellowhammers erupt from hedges.
The fishing lakes at Cotham end were alive with Swallows, flocking above the water or swooping low above the yellow flowers. Pretty.
Pretty knackered, was I when I finished this Eleven Mile run. But, Cream Crackered Nature is what this blog is called, and getting cream crackered is what I do to bring you content, dear readers.
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