Was running out through Willow Holt in Farndin today, the pretty Notts Wildlife Trust that sits between the village and the river.
After running over from Farndon, spotting a linnet (I think) on a telegraph wire, and noting how quickly the barley is growing in the field - but that the swallows are not maruauding along the tractor lanes for food yet - I arrived in Wyke Lane to be choked with dust being thrown up by a road sweeper. Consequently I entered the reserve by jumping over a gate.
As I ran through this long grass meadow, annoyed by thistles, paranoid of tick bites, I saw a couple of small whites fluttering about. But as the field opened out, suddenly I scared up large numbers of small, newly metamorphosed Ringlet butterflies. They were less than half the size of a full grown adult, and had the lovely, newly emerged purple black colouration they will lose as the summer goes on.
Along the river, I was disappointed to still not see any damselflies - maybe it was a touch cold today. But, another first for the year was recorded, and as ever, I just love running along listening to Radio 4!
Tuesday, 11 June 2013
Pictures from coddington and beacon hill run
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| Pink flowers growing out of lock wall |
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| Trapped at the Branby Road level crossing |
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| Coddington Windmill |
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| Ox eye daisies at Beacon Hill Park |
This was an 8 mile or so run to Coddington the back way, before heading back down the Beacon Hill road and through the reserve, before running along the river. Lovely for running. Any help with the pink flowers appreciated!
Monday, 10 June 2013
Showing off the International Space Station
Last night, got to do a little bit of long hoped for "astronomy outreach" when I went to the Prince Rupert pub last night. The sky was holding clear, despite the threatening presence of purpley grey clouds in the west as I walked down.
So, in the beer garden, fine pint of Reverend James in hand, I warmed up the crowd - of two - with a discussion about George Adamski, and the Warminster Thing flap of 1964 - 65;
http://www.weirdwiltshire.co.uk/archives/3990
We concluded that it was natural for even the most sceptical sort of folk such as ourselves to be interested in such phenomena, representing as they do a particularly interesting part of folk-culture, and that the changing nature of visitors from space from benign nordic types preaching at us to stop nuclear weapons development; to empathyless grey entities wishing nothing more of us than an endless supply of cavities to violate, shows the nature of our changing relationship with space, and the subconscious collective fears of humankind in the first world.
It was two pint pub talk basically, although I'd only had a half by this point.
Then came the main event. The ISS appeared over the pergola, and made its way over the pub proper, watched by several people as I explained what it was - a space station the size of a football pitch, 200 miles or more above us. These people had never seen it before, and couldn't quite believe the idea it was permanently occupied. A few minutes later, the ATV4 Albert Einstein supply ship followed it, fainter but faster, and I explained the importance of this vessel, an Ariane launched European effort.
Someone insisted it was a helicopter, no matter what I said.
Then it was gone, and the conversation had moved onto the nature of alien life. My job done, I headed back inside for more lovely beer, and a think.
So, in the beer garden, fine pint of Reverend James in hand, I warmed up the crowd - of two - with a discussion about George Adamski, and the Warminster Thing flap of 1964 - 65;
http://www.weirdwiltshire.co.uk/archives/3990
We concluded that it was natural for even the most sceptical sort of folk such as ourselves to be interested in such phenomena, representing as they do a particularly interesting part of folk-culture, and that the changing nature of visitors from space from benign nordic types preaching at us to stop nuclear weapons development; to empathyless grey entities wishing nothing more of us than an endless supply of cavities to violate, shows the nature of our changing relationship with space, and the subconscious collective fears of humankind in the first world.
It was two pint pub talk basically, although I'd only had a half by this point.
Then came the main event. The ISS appeared over the pergola, and made its way over the pub proper, watched by several people as I explained what it was - a space station the size of a football pitch, 200 miles or more above us. These people had never seen it before, and couldn't quite believe the idea it was permanently occupied. A few minutes later, the ATV4 Albert Einstein supply ship followed it, fainter but faster, and I explained the importance of this vessel, an Ariane launched European effort.
Someone insisted it was a helicopter, no matter what I said.
Then it was gone, and the conversation had moved onto the nature of alien life. My job done, I headed back inside for more lovely beer, and a think.
Tuesday, 4 June 2013
Pic journal of two lakes beacon hill reserve run
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| The nursery at Beacon Hill Conservation Park |
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| Clay Lane |
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| Bird's Foot Trefoil Beaccon Hill Park |
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| Wood Anemone Newark Cemetery |
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| Mummy moorhen and chick |
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| Canada Goslings |
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| Speedwell, Beacon Hill Park |
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| The Sand Martin section of The Trent |
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| Butterfly Park on Beacon Hill Park |
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| Mallard Chicks |
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| Unknown waterside plant, London Road Lake |
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| The Castle |
Pimms and Astronomy
As expected, last night offered some decent conditions for backyard astronomy; the milky way could even be seen in Cygnus, a faint shimmer against the urban skies.
With Pimms Number 1 in a very pleasant combination with rasberry and blackberry sparkling water, I took my 10x50s outside at about 1245am, and first up took in the sight of an angry, red-green flashing Antares within the branches of the trees blocking my lower southern aspect. No chance of seeing Messier 4, that's for sure, but Antares itself is always a great sight, the celestial scorpion's angry, unmerciful eye as it chases the virgin across the sky.
Sweeping around, I picked up the Messier 3 and Messier 5 globular clusters - as it turned out viewing conditions were a little hazier than I had first thought - and then strained to find Messier 51 and Messier 81. Messier 51 seems to be visible as a very faint smudge forming an equilateral triangle with two 8th mag stars, but 81 I'm never sure of. Which is odd, as it ought to be easier to spot than the Whirlpool.
I had one target in mind for the night's observing, and picked it up fairly easily. Having seen Messier 71 in Sagitta, I headed NE from there, and was able to pick up Messier 27, the famous Dumbell Planetary Nebula, reasonably easily.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dumbbell_Nebula
I thought I had spotted this the night before, but this will have been the Open Cluster NGC6885 north of the well known "Coathanger" asterism.
I finished off the evening with a sweep through Cygnus, spotting Messier 29 and Messier 39, before heading into the rising world of the west through a stop off at NGC 7243 in Lacerta. I caught my first summer look at the Mirfak and Perseus double clusters. A joy, but a warning of autumn days ahead, sadly.
With Pimms Number 1 in a very pleasant combination with rasberry and blackberry sparkling water, I took my 10x50s outside at about 1245am, and first up took in the sight of an angry, red-green flashing Antares within the branches of the trees blocking my lower southern aspect. No chance of seeing Messier 4, that's for sure, but Antares itself is always a great sight, the celestial scorpion's angry, unmerciful eye as it chases the virgin across the sky.
Sweeping around, I picked up the Messier 3 and Messier 5 globular clusters - as it turned out viewing conditions were a little hazier than I had first thought - and then strained to find Messier 51 and Messier 81. Messier 51 seems to be visible as a very faint smudge forming an equilateral triangle with two 8th mag stars, but 81 I'm never sure of. Which is odd, as it ought to be easier to spot than the Whirlpool.
I had one target in mind for the night's observing, and picked it up fairly easily. Having seen Messier 71 in Sagitta, I headed NE from there, and was able to pick up Messier 27, the famous Dumbell Planetary Nebula, reasonably easily.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dumbbell_Nebula
I thought I had spotted this the night before, but this will have been the Open Cluster NGC6885 north of the well known "Coathanger" asterism.
I finished off the evening with a sweep through Cygnus, spotting Messier 29 and Messier 39, before heading into the rising world of the west through a stop off at NGC 7243 in Lacerta. I caught my first summer look at the Mirfak and Perseus double clusters. A joy, but a warning of autumn days ahead, sadly.
Monday, 3 June 2013
Photo log of run to willow holt and along the trent
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| Ramson, or Wild Garlic, at Willow Holt |
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| Cotham Power Station over a field of oilseed rape |
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| Disgusting Fly Tipping opposite power station - reported to council |
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| Bumblebee and honey bee visit Russian comfrey |
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| Buttercup field after power station reach |
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| Red campion in Willow Holt |
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| I wave to The Sonning, they wave back |
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| Forget me nots after bypass goes overhead |
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| Very large thistles |
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| Cream crackered afterward! |
Saturday, 1 June 2013
1st June Visit to RSPB Langford Lowfields
I'd planned to head out this morning as soon as I knew the weather forecast was good, and that my bicycle wasn't going to fall apart underneath me. I took the Langford village way, where house martins were having a good old time in the air above the cottages. However, a sad sight was a badger dead in the verge; they have enough to fear from cars without having to worry about government sponsored culling as well.
Today was unusual. I often go to Langford Lowfields with an aim of seeing something they have tweeted or blogged about, and most of the time, me being a far inferior bird and wildlife watcher than them, I don't see it. They've written about damselflies this week, well, I didn't see any of those.
But I saw my other target.
I arrived at the reed bed hide, and as promised, the wetlands were alive with sand martins feeding just above the surface of the water. Hundreds of them, almost clogging up the view in my binoculars with their agile brown bodies. Black headed gulls seem to have colonised several areas, and there was no sign of the deformed wigeon I've also read about. However, as I swept the area in my 10x50s, I saw what I'd ridden out 6 miles for, and I let out a censorable shout of joy.
In the distance, daintily striding about the shallows, was an avocet. The first I've ever seen.
It is a beautiful bird, delicate and elegant, with it's characteristic upcurved beak and a mainly white plumage with a black V on its back. It also sports a sort of smudgy olive green wing bar, and long green legs. It flew off, and I hoped it wasn't goping to disappaear out of view. But no, it made its way off to a small island, and there joined another specimen, whether they are a pair or not I do not know. They fed in the shallows, as a mute swan sailed past obvlivious. They are really a lot smaller than you think, as with most waders, the ducks and even the numerous coot seem to dwarf them. But to the RSPB they are iconic birds, and you can see why.
What a joy to see them!
As I headed back up ther path, I stopped several times to listen to the huge variety of annoymous birdsong blasting out of the hedgerows, take in a fine sight of a reed bunting, and a chiff chaff was singing loudly in the wood at the edge of the site, it's song given an echoing quality by the trees. I'd already had my highlight however, and how pleased I am, to be able to write about having seen not one, but two, avocet!
Today was unusual. I often go to Langford Lowfields with an aim of seeing something they have tweeted or blogged about, and most of the time, me being a far inferior bird and wildlife watcher than them, I don't see it. They've written about damselflies this week, well, I didn't see any of those.
But I saw my other target.
I arrived at the reed bed hide, and as promised, the wetlands were alive with sand martins feeding just above the surface of the water. Hundreds of them, almost clogging up the view in my binoculars with their agile brown bodies. Black headed gulls seem to have colonised several areas, and there was no sign of the deformed wigeon I've also read about. However, as I swept the area in my 10x50s, I saw what I'd ridden out 6 miles for, and I let out a censorable shout of joy.
In the distance, daintily striding about the shallows, was an avocet. The first I've ever seen.
It is a beautiful bird, delicate and elegant, with it's characteristic upcurved beak and a mainly white plumage with a black V on its back. It also sports a sort of smudgy olive green wing bar, and long green legs. It flew off, and I hoped it wasn't goping to disappaear out of view. But no, it made its way off to a small island, and there joined another specimen, whether they are a pair or not I do not know. They fed in the shallows, as a mute swan sailed past obvlivious. They are really a lot smaller than you think, as with most waders, the ducks and even the numerous coot seem to dwarf them. But to the RSPB they are iconic birds, and you can see why.
What a joy to see them!
As I headed back up ther path, I stopped several times to listen to the huge variety of annoymous birdsong blasting out of the hedgerows, take in a fine sight of a reed bunting, and a chiff chaff was singing loudly in the wood at the edge of the site, it's song given an echoing quality by the trees. I'd already had my highlight however, and how pleased I am, to be able to write about having seen not one, but two, avocet!
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