Farndon Running Under a Blue Sky

The warmth was surprising. Gloved and hatted, I felt very overdressed after a couple of km of my Hawton-Frandon-Home route, and onto the Farndon road I was struggling a little.

Luckily a warm winter's day is a boon to some; as I reached the stand of trees just before the A46 flyover three magnificent buzzards took to the air. Initially they had to flap to maintain altitude, and looked rather ungainly, but as soon as they caught an updraft of some kind they spread their wings and sailed effortlessly upwards in lazy spirals.

I don't think 2014 has been a great year for buzzards locally, so it was a thrill to see these three together.

I tried to find adventure in streets of Farndon I'd never trod before, but this was never going to be terribly exciting. Willow Holt was also closed for grazing, so I had to wait for the Marina for things to get squelchy.

Fishermen were fussing over something in their net, so I had a look and found them happy to display a fine pike they'd caught.

Respectfully treated, the fish - in beautiful condition with its marked green body and red tinged fins - was returned to the river.

The rest of the run was uneventful; sheep filled pastures and damp ground. But I was glad I have done these 12km, for the moment I settled with my tea at rumbles, the sky went instantly grey, and a suddenly unwanted chill was at my bones.

River Devon at Hawton

Looking the other way

Where swallows skimmed the wheat in summer

Farndon church tower

The main body of Farndon church

A closed Willow Holt

The explanation

Farndon marina

Pike

Only a small one, apparently

Power station

Back to Rumbles, and the grey closes in

Raptor Vignettes

I've been back at work today, first day on shift, with all the general unhappiness that entails. But as long as you always keep your eyes open, there's always something to give you a lift.

I haven't rescued any baby birds yet this year, but, sitting in the canteen this morning, I noticed a mad flap of wings over the field next to the showground runway. I took a closer look, and saw a buzzard struggling to gain height to soar, before if was all but wrestled to the ground by a mobbing pair of crows.

Chastened it flew off into a tree and licked its wounds.

Later, as I cycled home having survived the day, I noticed a fast moving bird on my left along the main road. It jinked in and out of houses and trees, with my initial thoughts of it being a pigeon dispelled as it shot across the road right in front of my nose, and I caught a glimpse of a grey back and grey barred underside.

It hurtled up someone's driveway no more than four feet off the ground, and was lost to sight behind me as I cycled on. A sparrowhawk I would have thought, lurking around the urban gardens looking for unsuspecting songbirds or their newly hatched youngsters.

There seems to be a lot of raptors in the area at the moment, and I'm very glad these two appeared to make my day go just a little bit better!

Carpets of crocuses

Today went for an early run under crystal skies. There were bullfinches on Clay Lane, given away as they flew from my thumping footfall by their flashing white rumps. And above Beacon Hill Reserve, those three buzzards were soaring on the wind updraft from that North West side of Beacon Hill, turning endlessly against a beautiful azure background, no doubt spying upon the plump rabbits and perhaps newborn kittens as they poke their ears and noses out of their warrens.

But, having seen them as I ran through the cemetery, I had to go back with my camera and take some pictures of the beautiful purple and white crocuses absolutely carpeting the ground. I was watched by a cheeky squirrel disposing of acorns from atop a gravestone, quicksilver tail twitching...

Buzzards Over Beacon Hill

I was awake early, the sky was blue through the curtains, all augured well for the sort of really early run I'm always promising to do on every off-shift I have.

Alas at 7am I got distracted by watching "The Life Acquatic with Steve Zissou" - and so it ended up being nearer 930 when I did my stretches and ventured out into a beautiful day marred by a bitter wind.

I ran out along Barnby Lane, and up into Coddington the back way. No kestrel by the A1 flyover, but the hedgerows were dotted with the usual yellowhammers, chaffinches and great tits. I wonder when the first house martins and swallows will decorate the power lines, and slice the sky up with the joy of their flying?

Decided to run through Beacon Hill reserve, and although no brambling erupted from the scrubby ground cover, I could see a buzzard far off in the distance being mobbed by crows. "Nice sight" I thought. "Bit far away though". But then, as I began to descend the muddy path towards the nursery, my eyes were alerted to the sight of a buzzard having evidently just launched from the belt of trees that marks the edge of the farmland, and struggling to find a thermal. I though it was being mobbed by crows as well, then it transpired there were two other buzzards slowly circling and flapping, looking for something to soar on.

Then suddenly, the sun warmed slope combined with the biting Nor'easterly wind gave them the lift they were looking for, and beautifully, effortlessly, they began to rise.

They were right over my head, and I had superb view, their tails steering them in the air flow, white wing markings prominent in the sun. And I took off my radio 4 blaring ear phones, and listened asnd you could hear them keening, as I remember from eerie dawns at an exes home in the welsh valleys. One bird ws much larger than the other two, whether this was sexual dimorphism or an older bird, I do not know. What I do know is that it wasnt as good a flyer as one of the smaller birds, which at one point gained a hundred feet as if it were in a lift without so much as twitching its wings. I watched them for ten minutes until they slowly moved off towards the industrial estate, utterly engrossed.

And to think folk want to put these birds in cages while they destroy their nests and eggs, or shoot them, or poison them. Ugh.

From Aviceda on wikimedia, this is exactly the view I had today.

Rapturous Raptors

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...

Beautiful Buzzard

Work is a miserable place, a place of cardboard dust, despondent faces and the mental stench of the willfully ignorant.

But today, as I sneaked into the reserve canteen for a stupid paper cone or three full of water, I saw the familiar fuzzy "Y" shape of a Buzzard soaring.

Only it wasn't soaring, it was too damn cold to find a thermal, the air kept seeming to give way under its wings, so it had to repoint its wings, and turn head on into the wind and actually flap and hover like a kestrel until it tried soaring again, flying in wide spirals but barely gaining any height before going back to hover into the wind.

Eventually, after five minutes, the sun started to come out, and the bird was now repeating this routine much closer to my window. It flew downwind, and I get a fantastic view as it turned and swooped close to the window, white blaze on it's chest and under its wings. And then, it found the thermal, and it spiralled up like a glider.

The only thing that has been worthwhile about the day!