The Mighty Hunter

 My new phone, a Google Pixel 6A (and no they aren't paying for me to write this article!) has a night shooting mode on it, the first phone I've had that can do this.

To my delight, I've found that this has enabled me to dabble in some very basic astrophotography now that I can record brighter stars in the results. 

There is one constellation that is an obvious target because of this, because it has a number of bright stars in a small area, and that is of course the mighty hunter, Orion. 

The most magnificent constellation visible to Northern Hemisphere viewers, it really is one of the few constellations that can be said to resemble what it is meant to represent. The main group of seven stars you can imagine forming his belted tunic, with a smaller group to the right resembling perhaps an arm raising a shield, while a group to the left could be an arm raising a sword or club. 

The stars you can see in this photo represent some of the largest and most luminous stars that can be seen in the night sky, most remarkable of them being the famous Betelgeuse, seen here at the top left. It is a red hypergiant star that is expected to go supernova in some point in the near future in cosmological terms - in other words, within a few thousand years. When it does go bang, it will be bright enough to see in daylight, and to read by at night. 

You can just about make out the orange tint in this photo. 

Rigel, at the opposite corner is brighter and a rather different star - it is a blue supergiant that also may go supernova, but much further into history. Between them is the belt, Alnilam, Alnitak and Mintaka, all very luminous too. Amazingly, beneath them you can just make out a faint fuzz that marks Orion's sword, the nebula Messier 43 where new stars are being formed. 

If you get a clear night, do take a look, although you might have to stay up late at the moment - I took this photo at about 4am!

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCRackeredNature 29.10.22

A Birthday Bat Detector!

 So, it's been my birthday weekend just gone, hence the reason I've been off the air for a few days, and amongst some lovely presents and a spot of baking and walking with my sister, of which more anon, I was absolutely staggered to be given a bat detector.

A Magenta Precision 4, to be exact.

I've tried it in my garden, but the local pipistrelle that flits about my building is either asleep or off chasing the lady bats. I've walked round town, again nothing. 

Tonight, I decided to go a little less urban.

I first walked along the river alongside the dry dock towards the weir. Not a hint of a click. But then I headed just into the entrance of Sconce Park and along a very dark River Devon - there is a light on the detector but it isn't very bright. 

I turned it on at 45khz, which is the frequency the the common pipistrelle and daubentons bat click at. Nothing there. But when I moved up to 60khz, I suddenly got shorts bursts or rapid fire almost squelchy sounding clicks.

I'd detected bats!

No idea of the species; according to the guide in the box this may be a soprano pipistrelle echo-locating at 55khz or so.

I tuned back to 45khz, and I got more calls. Lots of species operate at this frequency; I know we have common pipistrelles and daubentons bats (which feed over water) so I'd guess at one of those species. 

I was so excited!!!

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 14.10.21

A Guest at Bedtime

I was just getting into bed last night when I found an unexpected guest in my bedroom.

Thankfully it wasn't bothered by the mess, and sat quietly on a towel hanging near my bed.

It was a beautiful, and early, angle shades moth.

Not far off the size of a hawkmoth, and with deeply curved wings, it is a beautiful species. I couldn't leave it to starve inside, so cold though it was, I did release it outside. It didn't fancy it, as it decided to sit on the warmth of my arm, but it fluttered off hopefully to find a safe roost.

As a temporary flatmate, not a bad one!

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 10.04.19

Night Creatures

I've had these photographs for a little while but haven't had a chance to put them up, with all the other stuff I had going on blog wise in the last  couple  of weeks.

So after a busy day nailed  to my seat at work and the evenings drawing in and so no chance to observe anything on the way home, I thought I'd dig them out for you...mating moths and a late night spider.

Me I've got a bit of a funny sinus feeling headache with the occasional dizzy moment - I often get this when I have colds coming on. Weekend forecast  looks good and only  one game of cricket for a change, so the chance for a spot of doing something is upon me. Providing I am well, I might yet sleep outside.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 29.08.18

Good Evening Mr Snail

I don't know about any of you my dear readers, but to me one of the saddest sounds I hear is when on a wet night, I walk up my dark driveway and feel the horrible crunch as I tread on an innocent snail.

Even if I am quick enough to take the pressure from my relatively titanic boots, the equivalent of us having a bus dropped on our heads while minding our own bloody business while walking along the street, it's almost certainly too late for the snail.

Even if it isn't dead, it's damaged shell will render it an easy target for the local thrush population.

So I was very glad to see this character hauling itself out of damp danger up my door frame. Well done, Mr Mollusc thing!

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 15.11.17

Late Night Hoggie!

Came across this little fellow as I walked home last night, just crossing the busy road after leaving my drive.

It went over the kerb like a hovercraft, and trotted down the bank onto South Parade Park, where I just gave a quick excuse me and took the one snap.

It was a hoglet again, seen a few this year, perhaps it's the same one each time. I'm just glad to see one, although as with any animal my heart goes in my mouth when I see one on the road.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 30.05.17

A Daffodil by Night

I've not been doing much running lately, thinking it had given me a calf strain that was affecting my bowling.

I've learned this week that the actuality is the other way round. I've run 6km tonight with no pain. On Wednesday I bowled one ball before my calf went. I think the issue has been proved!

So, that's a rest from cricket for a couple of weeks before outdoor training starts in April. Meanwhile, I can do some more careful running, with some walking and cycling, and hopefully shift a little weight I've put on.

I've been busy trying to get my wildlife garden plans through at work, all seems good there but I've had to write to the local councils and highway agency about litter picking, and yes, for H and S reasons I've had to contact our insurers.

It's not all that bad, I thought we'd hit trouble over attracting bees in case anyone complained about allergic reaction risk. Not an issue at all!

Tonight's run took me along the edge of the cemetery, and even at night, the daffodils are looking bright and cheery.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 24.03.17

The Loneliness of the Runner by Night

I've written a fair bit of the runs I've done by night, runs I feel are very beneficial to me, and there is a certain relish to be had in defying the elements, running in the cold and in the case of the other night, snow, to try and get a good level of fitness and keep my weight down.

The mental benefits of running are huge to me too, that I do know.

But night running is restricted to bright streets, and it is hard to find a decent route through decent areas and get enough distance in. It feels lonely without the light, with people all tucked away behind their curtains. On the foggier nights, you feel you are the only person in the Universe.

On I plod at my steady kilometre every 5 minutes 45, my footsteps the only noise around.

It is really hard going sometimes.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 11.02.17

Point, Flash and Shoot

Perhaps a little less fun than it might sound, but last night found me outside waiting to see if the clouds would break to allow a little stargaze.

Well, they didn't, and my attempt to see if my efforts at writing a guide to finding the Andromeda Galaxy from memory were hopeless or not, were thwarted.

Instead, now not having to worry about dark adapting my eyes, I took my mobile phone out and took some shots of the vegetation in my garden, to see if perhaps I could catch a sleepy silver-y moth on the ivy flowers or somesuch.

No such luck, although I did catch a sleeping harlequin ladybird on the crackly old honesty seed pods. But it is interesting to get a different view, albeit a rather washed out and overexposed one!

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 12.10.16

More Friends by Night

Walking out, I came across this frog, well I think it's a frog! Very green and smooth looking for a toad, and the eyes don't seem very toad like either.

Pretty dry for a frog to be on the wander last night.

On the way home, as plain as day even in the night, this young hoglet was out snaffling a worm, the young ones really have been busy in my part of the world. I closed in for a quick shot, then let it be. As I walked off, it shot off like a rocket across the damp grass. Never seen one move so fast!

Oh what the hey, have a bonus picture! Newark's most cluttered bike shop has a feline resident, who obligingly came and sat in the window for some photographs.

Not a bit self conscious at all!

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 10.09.16

The Great Aurora Storm of 17th March 2015

March must be a favoured month for Auroral storms. The only time I've ever seen the Northern Lights was on 13th March 1989, the great magnetic event that knocked out the electricity in Canada. An excitable teenager, I remember looking out of my bedroom and thinking the sky looked somehow rather odd and "green", and running out back to find what looked like sunset taking place overhead.

There was an red-orange band stretching through the zenith from one horizon to another, while in the northern skies, great billowing curtains of green shimmered. I phoned up Patrick Moore, his phone was constantly engaged. I phoned up an astronomy loving friend, sadly poor Elanor couldn't see anything despite the ranting assurances of her telephonal adviser.

So, I was pretty excited when I saw reports of a huge geo-magnetic storm brewing in our atmosphere, and a near certainty of auroral displays being assured. Initially the night was cloudy, but it began to clear; Jupiter was soon piercing the clouds after sunset.

And as the sky cleared, there was indeed an orange glow low in the north. But of course, it was the light of the industrial estate reflecting off a thickening haze. I kept looking out, but it was pointless. By midnight, the haze had become a for so thick visibility was down to 25 metres or less, and any aurorae above me could have been forming love hearts in the sky and I'd never have noticed.

The glorious pictures I saw from all over the UK, some from far further south than here, demonstrated that the aurora put on a fabulous display for many people. But sadly, not in the East Midlands.

Me, I just photographed the fog. Great,

Si

Magnolia by night

The vapour drifts by

Disappearing bicycle

Illuminating the mist

Streetlamp through shrubbery

Across the park

Like "Close Encounters"

There's Love in the Trees

I haven't seen my owlular visitor again yet, but, with the sun well below the horizon, I managed to capture these two feather merchants engaging in low level flirting in the baby oak tree.

If only they knew that the path of true love will lead to untidy nest building in daft places, resulting in domestic destruction at the first hint of April showers and sad broken white eggs sat on my doorstep in the dawn.

Woodpigeons. Second only to collared doves in terms of rubbishness at nesting.

Si

The Visitor by Night

I'm a notorious faffer, especially when it comes to bed time. What should be a simple process of "pull back duvet, get in bed" is often complicated my medication taking, sudden desire to read a small section of a book, or putting out rubbish, or even a quick astronomy session.

It was the rubbish last night.

I was carrying out the immensely irritating further faff of separating out all the plastic bags from one another, lest Mr Bin Man decide to not empty the bin and then stick stickers all over the bin telling you he hasn't emptied the bin, when I realised that I wasn't alone. There was a dark shape lurking in the sycamore behind me.

I've seen woodpigeons tramping about the trees at night before, but I realised very quickly this was not one of those. It was still, and evidently watching me intently. There was a round face, dimly visible in streetlight glow, with a pale surround.

It was a tawny owl, silent in the dark.

I've heard them around the garden before, and once before seen one flying over the neighbouring rooftops, but not settled so close so close to my home. Whether it was keeping an eye out for prey, or for mates, I have no idea.

I had the daft idea of trying to photograph it, despite it being far too far away for my mobile phone flash to illuminate it, and in any case the owl had other ideas. As soon as my hand entered my pocket, it was gone, over my roof, beating wings against the indigo sky.

I wonder where it is sleeping by day? And does it faff as much as I do before bed.

Si

Creatures of the Newark Night

I'm sure I've written in the past few days of an increasing autumnal chill, and certainly the clear nights have been very cold, and the Saturday morning Parkrun had a bitterly cold start.

But the last couple of nights the cloud has drawn in, and the conditions have been stifling. Sleeping has been difficult, and for some, the thought of Daddy Long Legs flapping around their faces in the dark - this is their peak season - must have made sleeping rather tricky.

But what these warm conditions have meant is that after a quiet couple weeks, there are moths back on the scene again. it would appear. Of course, the hawk moths are long gone, and the large yellow underwings so common a month ago also seem to have taken their leave. Now, more autumnal species are on patrol, and making excellent photographic subjects.

Also present too, rather late in the year, are lacewings, the handy aphid eater of urban gardens.

Common marbled carpet

Willow beauty in the bathroom

Pale brown apple moth in the kitchen

Late season lacewing

A Magical Run by Night

I was a lazy boy this morning. Overslept wildly for Parkrun, didn't really get a lot of information hoovering done at the library, and hadn't read much either.

Luckily a beautiful robin gave me a wonderful exhibition of gusto singing from the baby oak tree as I left the flat, and later on I watched treacherous woodpigeons eat the holly berries on my tree. They are for the waxwings dammit!

Lunch, and a snoozy sort of afternoon followed. By the time I was ready to run, well the sun was already beginning to set. I could have had a short run, but thought I didn't deserve it so easy after missing Parkrun. So I set off with the sun already on the horizon for Farndon, and Willow Holt.

It was a magical run. Not the early boring urban bit of course; It was in a mid blue twilight when I turned into Farndon village, and saw a kestrel in silhouette flying from tree to tree. That was when the magic started.

Certainly it was muddy underfoot, but worth it, to feel free in the deepening evening, to head along the river with a sense of risk, to see more kestrels, to see a heron overhead beating the air with slow elegant wings, and to scare out a large owl from a hedgerow near the sheepfields.

The Power Station was lit up, reflected in the Trent, and as I reached the windmill stretch, the most magical light descended upon me. A mist was rising from the river, the power station and sugar factory smoke and lights gave everything an orange glow, and storm clouds were coming over. I felt like I was running into Narnia, suffused in this soft glow in the damp air.

For a short time it was one of the most beautiful environments I'd ever been in. I felt so happy, despite being unable to see where I was going by now.  And then the hail set in.

I've never been caught out running in a severe hailstorm before. It hurts! Like striding in a shower of gravel, skin being scraped off your arms, the ground below soon a half inch deep in icy granules. Luckily I was nearly home, and could thus allow the ice to melt down the back of my neck as I stood fumbling for my doorkeys, listening to the remaining leaves on the trees being utterly pelted.

Copyright Cream Crackered Nature 09.11.2013