The day shift was running, another 15km along the Owl Road with no owls, past the fieldfare fields between Hawton and Farndon, and watching a huge buzzard being pursued across the Trent to the power station by a couple of brave and naughty crows.
The night belongs to astronomy, and more specifically Comet Lovejoy.
It was easy to find even in a rather barren area of sky, about ten degrees West of Orion's Belt, and in my 10x50s the effect was of a slightly smaller and fainter Andromeda galaxy forming the apex of an isosceles triangle with two 6th magnitude stars in Eridanus. There is a definite teardrop shape about the comet, but there is no tail in view; hopefully it may become apparent in the run up to perihelion.
The magnitude I would guess is about 4.8-5, and in my urban skies there is no chance of it being a naked eye object unless it brightens to 3.5 - 4. But comets are unpredictable, if it outbursts at perihelion, it may appear rather brighter.
It's only a rare comet, like Hale Bopp of 1997, that really looks like the common mental image of one of these magical visitors from the depths of the Oort Cloud. Lovejoy is not such an object, but I always feel great joy in being able to spot a comet, especially from an urban garden.
Si
Showing posts with label am writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label am writing. Show all posts
Tuesday, 6 January 2015
Friday, 2 January 2015
Ten Miles of Running, Beyond Owl Road
Today was more of a proper run than a photography expedition - hey, it is allowed - as I felt I needed to see what my actual running pace was for a change.
Plus, these runs slowed down by photo-opp stops do not impress social media contacts. 10km in 65 minutes just screams "PLODDER!!!".
So, I set out along the Owl Road, noticing that with the better weather the homeless guy has packed his tent and stolen away, perhaps heading for colder climes. Owl Road was devoid of owls, but a few goldfinch around, and to up the miles, I headed for Hawton, but then cut across along the Farndon Road.
Lots of fieldfare were in the fields either side of the Farndon road, their slate grey rumps and heads, and pale underwings and breast plain as they flew off if you got too close. On the radio, Mark Steele talked amusingly about Glastonbury, humour being an astonishingly rare event in any 1130am show on Radio 4.
The wind was sharp and icy despite the warm sun, and Willow Holt is still closed for grazing, so it was just a straight drift back in along the river, where geese swam in fleets and I saw a winter dulled reed bunting.
The ducks at the old windmill awoke at my presence, and pigeon flocks clouded about the fields. A lovely run...
Plus, these runs slowed down by photo-opp stops do not impress social media contacts. 10km in 65 minutes just screams "PLODDER!!!".
So, I set out along the Owl Road, noticing that with the better weather the homeless guy has packed his tent and stolen away, perhaps heading for colder climes. Owl Road was devoid of owls, but a few goldfinch around, and to up the miles, I headed for Hawton, but then cut across along the Farndon Road.
Lots of fieldfare were in the fields either side of the Farndon road, their slate grey rumps and heads, and pale underwings and breast plain as they flew off if you got too close. On the radio, Mark Steele talked amusingly about Glastonbury, humour being an astonishingly rare event in any 1130am show on Radio 4.
The wind was sharp and icy despite the warm sun, and Willow Holt is still closed for grazing, so it was just a straight drift back in along the river, where geese swam in fleets and I saw a winter dulled reed bunting.
The ducks at the old windmill awoke at my presence, and pigeon flocks clouded about the fields. A lovely run...
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| Site of the camp |
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| Nice dash on this Triumph Vitesse |
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| Charming and tumbledown |
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| Unrelated, but genius at the library |
posted from Bloggeroid
Tuesday, 23 December 2014
Kingfisher Territory Pictorial
I walked this morning, rather than ran. Somehow, I felt I needed a more relaxed start to the day, although in what felt like spring temperatures, I had soon worked up a sweat merely by employing shanks' pony.
I was down on the cycle path, thinking that a slow plod rather than a run would give me the best chance to see our new resident kingfisher. However, of neon blue flashes above the water there were none. Instead, I contented myself with watching the antics of a great crested grebe, still a handsome bird out of breeding plumage, and the comedy footed coots and moorhens spindling about the undergrowth at the water's edge.
Past the Clay Lane bridge, a flock of greenfinches crashed through the trees, while wrens and dunnocks operated at ground level. The sun made feeble attempts to peek through the humid cloud, failing every time. The wind funnelled down the track, making the bright yellow gorse flowers tremble.
All seemed good with the world.
I was down on the cycle path, thinking that a slow plod rather than a run would give me the best chance to see our new resident kingfisher. However, of neon blue flashes above the water there were none. Instead, I contented myself with watching the antics of a great crested grebe, still a handsome bird out of breeding plumage, and the comedy footed coots and moorhens spindling about the undergrowth at the water's edge.
Past the Clay Lane bridge, a flock of greenfinches crashed through the trees, while wrens and dunnocks operated at ground level. The sun made feeble attempts to peek through the humid cloud, failing every time. The wind funnelled down the track, making the bright yellow gorse flowers tremble.
All seemed good with the world.
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| London Road bridge. This is where I'm seeing the kingfisher at the moment |
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| Reverse view from same spot |
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| The lakeside drain |
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| Owl box. Nobody home |
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| Don't let your dog dive in the lake. |
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| Female blackbird |
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| Coot on land |
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| Coot on water |
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| Algae |
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| The secret pond, under Beacon Hill bridge |
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| Gorse in flower |
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| At the marina, man angles not for swans |
posted from Bloggeroid
Sunday, 21 December 2014
The Post Industrial Owl Country Pictorial
Third time in a row, I explored owl country, but decided not to run flat out, and instead explore and take some photographs.
It was worth it.
I love Owl Country. I haven't yet actually seen any owls, but to me there is an inherent excitement about running across ground that had an industrial use in the past; man has given way and nature is re-encroaching. The open, scrubby nature of the area is prime barn owl and short-eared owl territory because of this, and just because I, a not terribly amazing birdwatcher, hasn't seen any doesn't mean they aren't there.
So along paths of broken brick and worn concrete I ran, startling up partridge and chaffinch, and noting how many magpies there seems to be this winter; everywhere you look there is yet another piebald body and long tail riding the winds.
I got round to the Cotham Flash eventually, and with the water level there rather low - has it been drained? - I was able to go running through it. A big raptor was making its way low over the reeds, and initially I thought it was a marsh harrier; its behaviour and flight didn't seem very buzzard like. But, I doubt you'd find a marsh harrier round here in Newark, so I guess it was a buzzard after all.
The big prize occurred when I found myself stuck below the bank and looking for a place to climb out. Virtually under my nose, a bird was flushed out from the thick ground cover.
Barred brown body. Angular head. Long beak. I was looking at my first woodcock.
How nice to see a woodcock in the wild, and not meeting a sticky end at the end of Monica Galetti's cleaver on Masterchef!
It was worth it.
I love Owl Country. I haven't yet actually seen any owls, but to me there is an inherent excitement about running across ground that had an industrial use in the past; man has given way and nature is re-encroaching. The open, scrubby nature of the area is prime barn owl and short-eared owl territory because of this, and just because I, a not terribly amazing birdwatcher, hasn't seen any doesn't mean they aren't there.
So along paths of broken brick and worn concrete I ran, startling up partridge and chaffinch, and noting how many magpies there seems to be this winter; everywhere you look there is yet another piebald body and long tail riding the winds.
I got round to the Cotham Flash eventually, and with the water level there rather low - has it been drained? - I was able to go running through it. A big raptor was making its way low over the reeds, and initially I thought it was a marsh harrier; its behaviour and flight didn't seem very buzzard like. But, I doubt you'd find a marsh harrier round here in Newark, so I guess it was a buzzard after all.
The big prize occurred when I found myself stuck below the bank and looking for a place to climb out. Virtually under my nose, a bird was flushed out from the thick ground cover.
Barred brown body. Angular head. Long beak. I was looking at my first woodcock.
How nice to see a woodcock in the wild, and not meeting a sticky end at the end of Monica Galetti's cleaver on Masterchef!
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| Caravan Wasteland |
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| Sustrans 64 graffiti |
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| Portrait of me |
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| A more accurate portrait of me |
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| Ineffective roadblock against off-roaders |
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| Teasel time |
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| Owl country road |
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| The road I took |
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| The road I didn't take |
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| Tarmac path to Cotham flash |
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| Waterless flash |
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| A big cog |
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| No wigeon here today |
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| Bull rushes |
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| Down in the reeds |
posted from Bloggeroid
Friday, 19 December 2014
Final Geminid 2015 Report
Well, the final report is one of disappointment after the 2015 Geminid meteor shower started so well here in Newark!
My first proper observation session took place at 2am on the night of the 12th-13th. It was well below zero, but warmly dressed, it was strangely pleasant reclining on a garden chair in the frost, watching the stars crisply pierce the black vault above.
In the 45 minute session I had, I observed 8 Geminids, none brighter than 2nd magnitude and most fainter. The last quarter moon was providing some interference in the East, but bright meteors were still easily visible. In fact the brightest I saw were two sporadics of first magnitude streaking North - South through Leo, against the tide as it were.
The night of maximum, the 13th-14th (Saturday-Sunday) commenced with me making a 7km run around the streets, including a trip up Clay Lane and to the Elm Avenue cricket ground. Here skies were dark, and I was certain of seeing meteors, or so I thought.
As it happened, during the 45 minute run with these frequent meteor stops, I saw no meteors, despite the gloriously clear skies. Of odd looks from dog walkers and car drivers, wondering who this neck craning athlete was, there were many. Of shooting stars, there were none.
However, during a 15 minute session later on where I observed from a well lit street, I saw 5 meteors at around 8pm and was really hopeful of a fantastic night of illuminations. Ha ha. In the great tradition of British weather, clouds rolled in from nowhere at around 9pm and blanked the sky out for the rest of the night.
Cruel. So cruel.
The night of post maximum was the same, and the one after. Finally, on the Tueday night, I saw my final Geminid of the shower, a proud but strangely sad specimen heading East leaving a short trail.
No more.
It could have been so darn good!
My first proper observation session took place at 2am on the night of the 12th-13th. It was well below zero, but warmly dressed, it was strangely pleasant reclining on a garden chair in the frost, watching the stars crisply pierce the black vault above.
In the 45 minute session I had, I observed 8 Geminids, none brighter than 2nd magnitude and most fainter. The last quarter moon was providing some interference in the East, but bright meteors were still easily visible. In fact the brightest I saw were two sporadics of first magnitude streaking North - South through Leo, against the tide as it were.
The night of maximum, the 13th-14th (Saturday-Sunday) commenced with me making a 7km run around the streets, including a trip up Clay Lane and to the Elm Avenue cricket ground. Here skies were dark, and I was certain of seeing meteors, or so I thought.
As it happened, during the 45 minute run with these frequent meteor stops, I saw no meteors, despite the gloriously clear skies. Of odd looks from dog walkers and car drivers, wondering who this neck craning athlete was, there were many. Of shooting stars, there were none.
However, during a 15 minute session later on where I observed from a well lit street, I saw 5 meteors at around 8pm and was really hopeful of a fantastic night of illuminations. Ha ha. In the great tradition of British weather, clouds rolled in from nowhere at around 9pm and blanked the sky out for the rest of the night.
Cruel. So cruel.
The night of post maximum was the same, and the one after. Finally, on the Tueday night, I saw my final Geminid of the shower, a proud but strangely sad specimen heading East leaving a short trail.
No more.
It could have been so darn good!
Tuesday, 16 December 2014
A Traverse of Owl Country
After my muddy and frosty cross country slog on Saturday, I found I wasn't done with running adventures for the week, and today headed back to the owl country beyond British Gypsum (or whatever it is called now!).
I had no idea where it led, but I was determined to follow the track within to its conclusion.
It is a bleak spot on a grey day with the sun already beginning to sink down into the dirty grey blankets of the horizon. It is good country for owls - open, scrubby with plenty of cover for rodents, with a few bushes and trees for the raptors to perch in. It reminds me of the open wasteland near my work, where I have seen barn owls hunting at dusk.
Alas, I saw no owls. There were plenty of cawing crows, and as I ran along the broken surface of the track, I flushed out a small flock of brown birds from cover, probably partridges. The path led down to a farmer's field, I had an idea it might eventually lead the to the bridleway off the Hawton Road, but as I turned right, and the track became concrete, it became clear I was heading for the Cotham Flash area.
Magpies sat on fenceposts, seagulls wheeled overhead. I wondered if a flock of whistling wigeon would take to the air at my approach. No joy. The most exotic sight I had all run was a big flock of pigeons, aimlessly wheeling above some kind of field of brassicas.
But, it's a new route found, and assuming I can avoid any folk on off road bikes, it's one I'm going to be running a lot more in future. Especially as it naturally takes me back past Rumbles Cafe.
I had no idea where it led, but I was determined to follow the track within to its conclusion.
It is a bleak spot on a grey day with the sun already beginning to sink down into the dirty grey blankets of the horizon. It is good country for owls - open, scrubby with plenty of cover for rodents, with a few bushes and trees for the raptors to perch in. It reminds me of the open wasteland near my work, where I have seen barn owls hunting at dusk.
Alas, I saw no owls. There were plenty of cawing crows, and as I ran along the broken surface of the track, I flushed out a small flock of brown birds from cover, probably partridges. The path led down to a farmer's field, I had an idea it might eventually lead the to the bridleway off the Hawton Road, but as I turned right, and the track became concrete, it became clear I was heading for the Cotham Flash area.
Magpies sat on fenceposts, seagulls wheeled overhead. I wondered if a flock of whistling wigeon would take to the air at my approach. No joy. The most exotic sight I had all run was a big flock of pigeons, aimlessly wheeling above some kind of field of brassicas.
But, it's a new route found, and assuming I can avoid any folk on off road bikes, it's one I'm going to be running a lot more in future. Especially as it naturally takes me back past Rumbles Cafe.
Sunday, 14 December 2014
There's a Kingfisher on my Patch!
I set off today on a gentle 10km jaunt round town, not wishing to overstrain after the rather more taxing cross country slog yesterday.
I had only just gone through the kilometre mark, dropping down onto the cycle path from London Road, when I caught sight of a vivid red breast sat on a low branch. My first thought was, "Bullfinch!" - the vivid strawberry split colour of the breast was highly reminiscent of those chunky little finches although I'd never seen one on the cycling path.
But then the bird flew off from its perch above the drain on the left of the path, and flew off to a tree next to the lake. As it did so, the expected white rump did not appear; instead, it was the neon blue back of a kingfisher that headed off to a new, human-untroubled fishing spot.
This must have been the same bird I'd seen a few days before, between the Barnby Lane and Clay Lane bridges; they are known to have waterfront territories extending over a mile. But to see it down on the cycle path, on my patch, is an amazing treat. Such a beautiful bird, and I'll wager so many of the dog walkers and pram pushers, runners and cyclists, are unaware it is there.
I've no idea why it has decided to settle in on the Sustrans 64 drains compared to where it was before, and we've never had a resident kingfisher along here in the 6 or 7 years I've been running this route. There are certainly rich pickings of sticklebacks and toadlets to be found in the shallow water, but it is a busy stretch in terms of human activity and noise.
Whatever the reason, I'm delighted it has decided to stick around on my regular running route. I hope to see plenty more of it.
I had only just gone through the kilometre mark, dropping down onto the cycle path from London Road, when I caught sight of a vivid red breast sat on a low branch. My first thought was, "Bullfinch!" - the vivid strawberry split colour of the breast was highly reminiscent of those chunky little finches although I'd never seen one on the cycling path.
But then the bird flew off from its perch above the drain on the left of the path, and flew off to a tree next to the lake. As it did so, the expected white rump did not appear; instead, it was the neon blue back of a kingfisher that headed off to a new, human-untroubled fishing spot.
This must have been the same bird I'd seen a few days before, between the Barnby Lane and Clay Lane bridges; they are known to have waterfront territories extending over a mile. But to see it down on the cycle path, on my patch, is an amazing treat. Such a beautiful bird, and I'll wager so many of the dog walkers and pram pushers, runners and cyclists, are unaware it is there.
I've no idea why it has decided to settle in on the Sustrans 64 drains compared to where it was before, and we've never had a resident kingfisher along here in the 6 or 7 years I've been running this route. There are certainly rich pickings of sticklebacks and toadlets to be found in the shallow water, but it is a busy stretch in terms of human activity and noise.
Whatever the reason, I'm delighted it has decided to stick around on my regular running route. I hope to see plenty more of it.
Saturday, 13 December 2014
The Frosts, Forests and Raptors of Cotham
I missed Parkrun and someone told me I was fat last night.
At least when I missed Parkrun I was in my bed sleeping. No such joy about the chubby incident - caused by Tourette meds - and it resolved me to to a "show 'em" run.
Hence I ran a shade under 16km today, along an occasionally slippery cycle path decorated with winter thrushes, including a big flock of fieldfare at the solar farm, to Cotham. There I turned back for town, and mentally cancelled my plans to do the super long Farndon route when I realised how icy the road was in places. Ever since I smashed my elbow in 2005, I've become rather paranoid of frosts, and with my balance already affected by labrhynthitits, I tend to tread very carefully.
The Hawton to Farndon road is a notorious ice rink, so thought it best to avoid.
Instead I searched for adventure elsewhere. There were footpath signs over a flytip just out of the village, and found myself in a small wood full of frozen hoofprints and vivid green moss. I ran out of path, no matter I backtracked, and a little later headed up another grassy lane fringing Pykett's Wood, following a path around a field full of fieldfares, and lined with hedges sporting yellowhammer and reed bunting.
It was a little further along here, as the path narrowed and darkened under the trees, I had my "sight of the day" and a spectacular one it was too. A sparrowhawk, clearly carrying prey of some kind in its talons, erupted out of the tree line and flew along the path 20 metres ahead of me, and right at ground level. It was being languidly followed by a great, slow flapping buzzard that didn't have its aerial speed or agility, but knew the chance of some dropped carrion when it saw it.
A little later this sparrowhawk must have found a safe perch on which to feast on what was probably a small songbird, but was disturbed by the neon Aldi plumage of the running me, at which point it flew off through the branches like a slalom roller skater, reaching top speed in barely a few flaps.
I've seen one chase a bird under a car port and down the side passage of a house, but this was even more impressive as the bird was laden down. I'm seeing plenty of raptors this winter, and this can only be a good sign.
At least when I missed Parkrun I was in my bed sleeping. No such joy about the chubby incident - caused by Tourette meds - and it resolved me to to a "show 'em" run.
Hence I ran a shade under 16km today, along an occasionally slippery cycle path decorated with winter thrushes, including a big flock of fieldfare at the solar farm, to Cotham. There I turned back for town, and mentally cancelled my plans to do the super long Farndon route when I realised how icy the road was in places. Ever since I smashed my elbow in 2005, I've become rather paranoid of frosts, and with my balance already affected by labrhynthitits, I tend to tread very carefully.
The Hawton to Farndon road is a notorious ice rink, so thought it best to avoid.
Instead I searched for adventure elsewhere. There were footpath signs over a flytip just out of the village, and found myself in a small wood full of frozen hoofprints and vivid green moss. I ran out of path, no matter I backtracked, and a little later headed up another grassy lane fringing Pykett's Wood, following a path around a field full of fieldfares, and lined with hedges sporting yellowhammer and reed bunting.
It was a little further along here, as the path narrowed and darkened under the trees, I had my "sight of the day" and a spectacular one it was too. A sparrowhawk, clearly carrying prey of some kind in its talons, erupted out of the tree line and flew along the path 20 metres ahead of me, and right at ground level. It was being languidly followed by a great, slow flapping buzzard that didn't have its aerial speed or agility, but knew the chance of some dropped carrion when it saw it.
A little later this sparrowhawk must have found a safe perch on which to feast on what was probably a small songbird, but was disturbed by the neon Aldi plumage of the running me, at which point it flew off through the branches like a slalom roller skater, reaching top speed in barely a few flaps.
I've seen one chase a bird under a car port and down the side passage of a house, but this was even more impressive as the bird was laden down. I'm seeing plenty of raptors this winter, and this can only be a good sign.
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| Backlit tree, Sustrans 64 |
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| View across to the distant sugar factory |
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| The sun wasn't low, I actually have giant legs |
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| Another adventure beckons, the path towards Bottesford |
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| Ten mile view, Cotham |
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| Exploring a small wood |
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| Livid green moss |
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| Among the trees |
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| Mr Freeze the horse |
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| The devil's hoofprints |
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| Towards Pykett's Wood |
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| The sparrowhawk path |
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| Please don't shoot me |
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| Poplar wood |
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| River Devon |
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| Golden Hawton church |
posted from Bloggeroid
Tuesday, 9 December 2014
Time to Enjoy the Geminid Meteors
For many many years, it was the night of August 12th that was the most looked forward to on the shooting star watcher's calendar; the night of the annual Perseid maximum.
Despite their reputation, the Perseids have many drawbacks as a spectacle. For a start, the radiant, the point in the sky from which the meteors appear to originate from, rises very late in the UK, and thus the optimum time for observing the meteors is well past midnight. Also, in mid summer, the skies are never as dark as they are in winter, and so some fainter meteors will be drowned out in the deep twilight conditions.
Thirdly, the weather has not been great the last couple of years, with the night of maximum often clouded out.
The Geminids, which will reach maximum this weekend on the night of 13th-14th December, seem to have overtaken the Perseids as the most reliable shower of the year. For a start they have a longer build up, allowing meteors to be seen in the week to ten days prior to maximum. They tend to be slower moving and brighter, and thus easier to see. The winter skies are darker and crisper, allowing fainter meteors to be seen. And finally, the radiant is already reasonably high in the sky by the early evening, and not far from overhead by midnight which makes them a spectacle children can enjoy too.
Unlike meteor showers like the Perseids and Leonids - associated with the comets Swift-Tuttle and Temple-Tuttle respectively - the source of the Geminids seems to be the asteroid Phaeton, an object with an orbit that takes it twice as close to the sun as the planet Mercury, raising its temperature to 750C in the process.
I saw my first Geminid of the 2014 season last night at about midnight, streaking through the constellations of Triangulum and Australia. Just after it did so, a pair of canada geese flew low overhead, softly glowing in the moonlight. It just went to emphasise what magical sights there are to have while meteor watching.
The best time for observing Geminids this year will probably be up to midnight - one am on the night of the 13th-14th - after this, a last quarter moon will start to interfere although plenty of brighter meteors will still be visible. Unlike the Perseids, which tend to be seen closer to the radiant, Geminids tend to wander much further across the sky. Because of this, a reclining chair with a good view of the zenith might well be the best place to watch the meteors from, although remember for the love of all that's holy to wrap up warm this time of year. A good view of the Southern portion of the sky might be best, particularly later on.
Watch for the colour of the meteors. Often Geminids will appear to have a markedly orange hue compared to the Perseids, and often they leave a smokey trail too. They may also appear to "wobble" slightly as they travel across the sky.
So lets hope for clear skies, and not too much in the way of savage frosts or numbing gales, and let us see what we shall see.
Good hunting!
Despite their reputation, the Perseids have many drawbacks as a spectacle. For a start, the radiant, the point in the sky from which the meteors appear to originate from, rises very late in the UK, and thus the optimum time for observing the meteors is well past midnight. Also, in mid summer, the skies are never as dark as they are in winter, and so some fainter meteors will be drowned out in the deep twilight conditions.
Thirdly, the weather has not been great the last couple of years, with the night of maximum often clouded out.
The Geminids, which will reach maximum this weekend on the night of 13th-14th December, seem to have overtaken the Perseids as the most reliable shower of the year. For a start they have a longer build up, allowing meteors to be seen in the week to ten days prior to maximum. They tend to be slower moving and brighter, and thus easier to see. The winter skies are darker and crisper, allowing fainter meteors to be seen. And finally, the radiant is already reasonably high in the sky by the early evening, and not far from overhead by midnight which makes them a spectacle children can enjoy too.
Unlike meteor showers like the Perseids and Leonids - associated with the comets Swift-Tuttle and Temple-Tuttle respectively - the source of the Geminids seems to be the asteroid Phaeton, an object with an orbit that takes it twice as close to the sun as the planet Mercury, raising its temperature to 750C in the process.
I saw my first Geminid of the 2014 season last night at about midnight, streaking through the constellations of Triangulum and Australia. Just after it did so, a pair of canada geese flew low overhead, softly glowing in the moonlight. It just went to emphasise what magical sights there are to have while meteor watching.
The best time for observing Geminids this year will probably be up to midnight - one am on the night of the 13th-14th - after this, a last quarter moon will start to interfere although plenty of brighter meteors will still be visible. Unlike the Perseids, which tend to be seen closer to the radiant, Geminids tend to wander much further across the sky. Because of this, a reclining chair with a good view of the zenith might well be the best place to watch the meteors from, although remember for the love of all that's holy to wrap up warm this time of year. A good view of the Southern portion of the sky might be best, particularly later on.
Watch for the colour of the meteors. Often Geminids will appear to have a markedly orange hue compared to the Perseids, and often they leave a smokey trail too. They may also appear to "wobble" slightly as they travel across the sky.
So lets hope for clear skies, and not too much in the way of savage frosts or numbing gales, and let us see what we shall see.
Good hunting!
Monday, 8 December 2014
Owl Hunting in the Badlands
Today I had a doctors appointment, so only had limited time for an adventure. I still managed to have one though, finding land until today untouched by any pair of my trainers.
This was in the scrubby waste ground over the Staunton road off the Sustrans 64 route, next to a cement factory. Nick Crouch has stated in the past that this is prime territory for short eared owls, and I was curious to see what I might find out here. Frankly, however, I'm not sure I'd know a so called "SEO" if I saw one and would probably mistake it for a crow at a distance; seeing as I was running I only had my terrible petrol station pocket field glasses on me.
It is difficult country, muddy underfoot, and filled with scrubby, thorny low cover that I imagine is quite popular with a number of species. A ruined house dominates the area, and around the edges are the metallic, rumbling outcrops of the cement industry. A couple of lads spluttered up to carry out some probably illegal off road motorbike riding, using a rough and ready access road.
This made me rather nervous about having a good look around the site, as there was the off chance that these were lads from the cement factory coming to investigate the erratic stumblings of a blue clad runner amid the quaggy tire tracks.
Of course, I didn't see anything that might have been an owl, but there did seem to be some small birds skittering around in the low cover. Eventually, I ran out of path - I was hoping that there might be a link to the bridleway that leads off to the left beyond Hawton - and I headed back on to the road into town, before turning off to circle Balderton Lake.
That there had been bad weather was evident in the number of black headed gulls that were floating about on the lake - numbers less than a hundred a couple of days ago were now between maybe two and three hundred. Of the interesting winter ducks, there was no sign.
I got home, unmolested by insane inbred bikers, and was shortly afterward able to tell my doctor of the mental health benefits of my running, and how it helps my Tourette's. I may not be much of a birdwatcher, but that is hardly going to stop me from enjoying the benefits of the outside world.
This was in the scrubby waste ground over the Staunton road off the Sustrans 64 route, next to a cement factory. Nick Crouch has stated in the past that this is prime territory for short eared owls, and I was curious to see what I might find out here. Frankly, however, I'm not sure I'd know a so called "SEO" if I saw one and would probably mistake it for a crow at a distance; seeing as I was running I only had my terrible petrol station pocket field glasses on me.
It is difficult country, muddy underfoot, and filled with scrubby, thorny low cover that I imagine is quite popular with a number of species. A ruined house dominates the area, and around the edges are the metallic, rumbling outcrops of the cement industry. A couple of lads spluttered up to carry out some probably illegal off road motorbike riding, using a rough and ready access road.
This made me rather nervous about having a good look around the site, as there was the off chance that these were lads from the cement factory coming to investigate the erratic stumblings of a blue clad runner amid the quaggy tire tracks.
Of course, I didn't see anything that might have been an owl, but there did seem to be some small birds skittering around in the low cover. Eventually, I ran out of path - I was hoping that there might be a link to the bridleway that leads off to the left beyond Hawton - and I headed back on to the road into town, before turning off to circle Balderton Lake.
That there had been bad weather was evident in the number of black headed gulls that were floating about on the lake - numbers less than a hundred a couple of days ago were now between maybe two and three hundred. Of the interesting winter ducks, there was no sign.
I got home, unmolested by insane inbred bikers, and was shortly afterward able to tell my doctor of the mental health benefits of my running, and how it helps my Tourette's. I may not be much of a birdwatcher, but that is hardly going to stop me from enjoying the benefits of the outside world.
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| The badlands under the sun |
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| Long shadow on the scrub |
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| Ruined building |
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| Road to nowhere |
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| Mossy branches |
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| Gulls on the lake |
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| Slightly greater zoom, slightly less quality |
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| Two different mallard hybrid |
posted from Bloggeroid
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