Christine's walking & birds blog

I was determined to get out for a walk today despite not being completely well. The Cetti's warbler was very mobile; I was surprised that I'd managed to catch it with the camera at all.

Is this duck what I think it is? Better not say what or where; her days are probably already numbered.

The best bird of the day was a woodcock flying over in a rather leisurely fashion quite low - just as I was on the phone to Greger! A great photo-opportunity missed. (I mean the opportunity was great; obviously the photo wouldn't have been.)

Loads of birds visited the garden. As well as the usuals we saw a male bullfinch, three siskins, a nuthatch, two coal tits (one of them almost entirely black), jackdaws and crows. Three reed buntings flew down for peanuts, and Greger snapped this one through the window.

Our last walk was up the Scandale Beck to High Sweden Bridge. Greger was quite taken with this little packhorse bridge; he enthusiastically pointed out the impressively flat arc and voiced his incredulity that it stays up at all while urging me to stand right in the middle for some photos. (Hmmm....) Naturally I obliged but I dislike photos of me, so my inferior picture will have to do.

Greger was not only in the air early this morning - he actually landed! As we drove away from a fairly quiet Heathrow, he wondered what all the fuss had been about. Ah well, he didn't see us at our worst, as it's now thawing. We had minus eight at home, I told him.

It was minus twenty-five in Sweden when he left; but that's quite unusual for the Stockholm area, at least for any length of time. They are also experiencing exceptionally cold weather this winter.

But the invasion of waxwings in Britain is probably more to do with the poor berry crop in Scandinavia - the result of a very hot, dry summer.

HEATHROW I HATE YOU!

Greger has waited all day once again at Arlanda, even going through to the gate; but at the last moment, the flight was cancelled.

Yesterday morning, a Radio 4 reporter asked a BAA representative if they ever ask for advice about freezing weather, but the BAA representative evaded the question. It's Scott of the Antarctic syndrome: I say, let's take ponies instead of dogs to the South Pole - what do those stupid Norwegians know about it?

At least I got out today. I drove down to Maidenhead and stocked up on fresh provisions at Waitrose - which was a complete madhouse.

Two blackcaps - one male, one female - have been trying to get at the rather awkwardly-hanging berries on the Japanese angelica trees out the front. The robin and blackbirds also go for these. But I was very surprised this afternoon to see a green woodpecker fly away from them as I approached the window.

Well, I suppose extreme weather may beat us in the end; but I don't call four inches (and Heathrow can't have had much more than that) of snow, extreme weather. Not for one of the busiest (and possibly wealthiest) airports in the world. Pathetic.

It was good to see a wren in the garden this morning before the storm took hold. In the thick of it, half a dozen ducks went hurtling across the estate; ghost ducks in the snow.

Parakeets have been flying about noisily, and a grey wagtail was on the opposite side of the road, foraging at the base of the wall among drifts of frozen leaves.

Poor Greger is stranded in Sweden. (Well, I don't suppose that's how nine million Swedes look at it.) He queued for most of the day at Arlanda and finally got sent to a gate with a standby ticket - only to be told that the one flight was cancelled anyway because Heathrow had just closed!

Wood pigeons have been pulling the dried-up wistaria to bits in their efforts to get the last of the holly berries and made a complete mess of the patio; so this morning I swept up and re-filled the seed-feeder. Coal tit, nuthatch, chaffinch and great tit have been constant visitors to it while jay, robin, blackbirds and a male blackcap have taken stuff from the ground.

Just as I came back indoors, a steely-blue light preceded a shower of hail; after which the sun broke through. Next thing I knew, it was incredibly dark although only midday. A swirling grey snowstorm blotted out everything beyond the garden, and when I opened the door I could hear a wet, hissing sound. Through this sound, I could hear the muted, distant shouts of children; no doubt they were delighted.

We're ending the year as we began it - with the horrible hacking-cough flu. Greger's been in Sweden for most of the week and I was supposed to be picking him up from the airport late tonight, but his flight has been cancelled. BA refused to take any responsibility, saying it was the weather. I said it couldn't be the weather this end because I'd been standing by the bedroom window for a while, watching planes land at and take off from Heathrow. Greger admitted it was at his end, as they had closed one runway - yes folks, they don't always cope with winter weather in Sweden! Anyway, he's lucky because he was able to stay with his niece who lives near Arlanda - and I'm a bit relieved because I still feel shaky.

Earlier in the week my poor brother, calling for a morning coffee on his daily walk, had to make do with my disembodied voice talking through the letter-box; but I couldn't risk giving this virus to him. It's a shocker. I'm used to flu, but this particular strain isn't the one I usually get. I'd rather have that one twice than this one once.

I've been hoping for waxwings as some were reported in Marsh Lane, but it's unlikely as there are very few berries left around here. My last significant bird sighting of the day was of a flock of lapwings, flying south-west across an aquamarine sky. Not such a bad thing to see while doing the washing-up!

Greger has gone off to have Christmas lunch with colleagues from the Society of Swedish Engineers in Great Britain, at (where else?) Garbo's.

So I went for a brisk midday walk on the wetlands. A sparrowhawk cruised low over the reed-beds and a buzzard was perched on one of the tall lights on the sewage farm. In "the corner" a water rail was still foraging round the willow, and several teal and a shoveler were also in the Roundmoor ditch. Two meadow pipits had joined the usuals, but no Cetti's sang today.

I hoped for bearded tits and short-eared owls as both have been reported here recently, but in the meantime a stonechat on East Marsh was a nice sight. I was too cold by this time however to hang around and see if she had a male companion.

A positively balmy zero degrees today, after minus four yesterday. We decided against a long walk, so I paid a visit to the wetlands. As usual, the bend in the Roundmoor stream on the county boundary was extremely busy. A Cetti's warbler sang several times and flew up onto a bare branch for a nanosecond. The resulting snapshot has been duly trashed.

A kingfisher viewed the misty water from a high perch.

Also present in the corner were blue, great and long-tailed tits, dunnocks, greenfinches, chaffinches, robins, blackbirds, a song thrush and a little grebe.