Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Greger having gone off on one of his route marches this glum evening, I walked through Dorney Wetlands to the flood on the common. It's very difficult to view this flood (or at least most of it) without being seen; and when I eventually walked out from the shelter of the hedge an unnoticed common sandpiper took off from the water's edge. A green sandpiper was the next sighting as the wader foraged close by.
Eventually it realised I was there and flew off calling up the flood. The sandpiper stood bobbing on the far side of the water and I struck off across the common. After a while I heard it call again and I turned to see it tower up into the sky and head off across the wetlands towards the farm.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
If you can't beat 'em.....
Well I'm not joining them exactly; but trying to be positive and making something colourful from the mess left by the unmentionables has helped me to calm down.
Yesterday Greger and I had a good walk through Swinley Forest and over the heathlands, seeing a fair few stonechats, several Grayling butterflies and two Ammophila Digger Wasps.
The wasps were flying ahead of us along a narrow path through the Surrey heather and alighting for just a few seconds every now and then, so it was difficult to focus on them.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Dorney
I walked to East Marsh on the wetlands and stood amid the rubbish by the bridge to scan the islands. An Environment Agency truck came along and two men got out. I heard one say fairly unconcernedly "Looks like some kids have been in swimming and left their socks there." Their socks? What about all the other trash strewn about the place?! They made it sound like something cute.
Muttering like the mad old cow I've become, I walked round behind the vehicle enclosure and immediately calmed down; because a Brown Hawker dragonfly zoomed across in front of me and then landed on my leg to eat the fly it had just caught.
The common flood was taken over by black-headed gulls, while the Eton Wick flood held at least four Egyptian geese and these two shovelers.
This snazzy caterpillar was feeding on Ragwort; apparently it's the larva of the Cinnabar Moth.
A kingfisher on the boardwalk provided a nice end to a hot and dusty walk.
I'm still angry about the rubbish along the Jubilee river. At best it's unsightly; at worst the plastic bottles floating (out of my reach I'm afraid) on the water are potentially harmful to wildlife.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
I parked at Lake End Road car park late afternoon and set off on a circular walk. I went to the Dorney Lake entrance and along its northern edge on the footpath. The path is covered with sand and gravel and is all churned up; I'm not sure they want you there but anyway I got onto the common at last (the footpath beyond the stile was screened off).
Across the hot, windless common I could see a group of gigglesome girls splashing about in the flood. Lucky things! I thought. Anyway, at least it saved me a walk as there would clearly be no Terek Sandpiper there.
At the Dorney Wetlands, two young people were walking away from the grassy bank by the vehicle bridge, which was covered with food wrappers, cigarette cartons, socks..... One of the screen-hides had been taken over by a bunch of blokes, two of whom were wading about among the islands of East Marsh with a large net on a pole. The footbridge had been bagged by people stretched out sunbathing; so I returned to the car park on the north side.
Eventually I found a little spot all to myself on the riverbank near Marsh Lane. A shoal of small fish in the shallows kept me mesmerised as they shimmied about above the gravel. I don't know if they were feeding or spawning, or even what they were. Minnows perhaps. The largest was no more than two inches; and there were some tiny, tiny ones as well, although they might have been a different species. Anyway, they restored sanity.
Meanwhile Greger was at home watching a plumber at work in our bathroom. He watched the plumber and his son at work a week ago in the kitchen; and on both occasions he was left quite exhausted. Nothing a couple of beers couldn't cure, though.
Birders everywhere seem determined to make it autumn - why wish your life away? It's summer, summer, summer! We haven't had much of one, so let's make the most of it now it's arrived.
The garden has sprung into life with a few more butterflies, a Southern Hawker Dragonfly, and this Ruby-tailed Wasp. It's very tiny and hardly stops moving as it searches the wall for crevices; but the electric colours catch the eye.
This is a solitary predatory wasp, probably one of the Square-headed species.
Yesterday, the settled weather drew us down to Hut Hill. We had a cheeseburger (our first since we were here last year, despite the contemptuous looks of the Muzzy man as one who is thinking "You English! You have such unhealthy eating habits!") and then walked out into the forest on a still, warm evening just made for nightjars.
We had to wait until it was almost dark before one came zinging by; Greger was behind me and said it just cleared my head! It flew back across the track in front of us looking very cuckoo-like, twisting and turning low over the bracken where moths were beginning to rise.
One began to churr very close, and the churring ended in a sort of breathy whistle (first time I've heard this) followed by a wing-clap. But we weren't lucky with woodcocks.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
The state of this union flag on our downlands walk yesterday might have gladdened the hearts of Scottish nationalists - had there been any around.
The only noteworthy bird was a reed bunting singing in a field of rape seed. There were loads of Ringlet Butterflies everywhere.
This photo of the Dorney flood is timed at 6.54 this morning. Although it was the busiest I've seen it, the only birds were mallards, tufties, lapwings, and (briefly) a little egret.
In a lovely clear blue sky, these two great crested grebes were flying high above the Jubilee River.
I thought for one heart-stopping moment that the red-throated divers had followed me home.
Friday, July 20, 2012
This tiny round bug on the window yesterday was a Cream-spot Ladybird.
It was barely 4mm long and difficult to focus on. It's a native species and a first for the garden.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Greger's gone to B and Q (is he going to do some DIY???) and I've finished all the admin. The floods at Dorney (seen beyond the Roundmoor Ditch stream) are quite exciting and I intend to try and get out there at dawn at some point if waders are returning. It's a pity the two floods don't meet across the stream, which would keep dog-walkers away for a while.
A few more pics from Scottish trip: This has to be the scruffiest, maddest looking sheep I've ever seen up a mountain. It was near the summit of Sail Gorm on Quinag. I'd seen a black-faced sheep first, lying on its front with its head on the ground as though it was dead. Then it lifted its head and started to graze. Meanwhile an unpromising heap of matted wool to its left suddenly heaved upwards and materialised into this nutcase.
Perhaps they've evaded capture and gone feral, their unshorn fleeces becoming so heavy that they don't move about more than is necessary.
I like shots with several species in, and that's my excuse for including this one of razorbill, kittiwake and black-throated diver.
A red-throated diver relocates. When you see how far back their legs are set it's no wonder they're awkward on dry land.
No excuse needed for another shot of black-throated divers.
I love red-throats for their grace, up-tilted head, delicate bill, and the red throat as it catches the sun. I love black-throats for their mystery and their haunting calls, and for making the most of black and white and grey.
Friday, July 13, 2012
Dorney
It was very wet on the wetlands! An adult reed warbler and a fledgling were seen, the latter already ringed. A lesser whitethroat was singing and a hobby drifted over. A Marbled White Butterfly was seen among several Meadow Browns, and two Black-tailed Skimmer dragonflies were making a mating wheel.
On impulse I walked out onto the common, and over the road to the south side. Just before I crossed the road again a large brown-and-white chequered bird lifted from the ground ahead of me and landed a little way off. Strange behaviour, I thought, for an immature gull. Whoops. It was a curlew.
A woman on a horse cantered by on the path and didn't flush the bird, so I returned to the path. For a while this worked, but as I drew level with the curlew it took off with a heart-stirring call.
The flight shot below is the sort I don't like taking because it was probably my attentions that flushed the bird. However, in my defence I was on the path, and another much poorer shot shows the curlew going down again this side of the trees (somewhere near the stream) so at least it didn't leave the site.
Oddly enough, Greger told me this morning that he'd just heard on the radio of an unprecedented number of migrant curlews for the time of year having been seen at an RSPB reserve in Wales. The theory is that they are moving early because of autumnal weather.
Monday, July 09, 2012
It begins and ends on the Dirrie More
We had pulled in for a scan of Loch Droma on the bleak, high moorland pass between Garve and the Braemore Junction. Nothing was seen on the water apart from a common sandpiper; then a surprise osprey came cruising. It hovered over the loch with dangling feet and then crossed the road to Loch Glascarnoch, where it landed on the top of a conifer before being chased off by crows.
The otter was in the corner of Loch Kanaird where the Slavonian grebes were seen in early May. It was about a quarter to ten in the evening, and we watched it swim and run along the shore until the light went. Finally it dived, leaving a few bubbles and a "ring of bright water".
South of Ullapool, we followed the long stalkers' path up Gleann na Sguaib, seeing siskins, redpolls, Golden-ringed Dragonflies and a spotted flycatcher in the forest. High up around the 600m contour a juvenile dipper foraged as we had a coffee-break by a small pool.
A watchful adult was nearby.
On this higher pool were more dippers (one was singing), common sandpipers and meadow pipits. Loch Broom is just visible far below, and beyond is the sea.
Greger was again much taken by outcrops of compressed rock, and took this with his mobile.
It was nice to get up to this curious bealach again with its lochan and its dry stone dyke. The snow patches are on the shoulders of Beinn Dearg ("byn dyerak", The Munros, Cameron McNeish) which we climbed fourteen years ago. Today we'd been hoping to go straight over the pass to bag Cona Mheall ("cona vale").
With great reluctance we decided we were not fit enough. Meanwhile the impressive Coire Ghranda was worth a long look. Loch Glascarnoch and the Dirrie More are visible in the distance, and our intended hill is to the left.
On our coastal drive later in the week I was surprised to see two black-throated divers close to the shore near the Aultbea Hotel. Were they real?! Shame they had the sun behind them.
Pulling into the lay-by at First Coast we startled half a dozen red deer feeding on a shelf between the road and the sea. They didn't seem overly bothered when Greger got out of the car and took this picture.
We got back into the car and the deer came back up. The grass must be sweet there.
They eventually crossed the road and disappeared up rising ground opposite; nope, one more to come! Gruinard Bay and Beinn Ghobhlach ("ben golach") are in the background.
At the head of Little Loch Broom I was watching curlews and dunlins when an odd gruff bark made me turn to see, not a small angry dog, but a red-breasted merganser.
Another golden evening at the lodge mid-week, and two vocal cuckoos were hunting from fence posts, again at about a quarter to ten. I watched and listened as the setting sun lit up the hillside; I'm glad I did because after this we neither saw nor heard a cuckoo again.
One whooper swan was on a reedy loch, and a greenshank was calling with alarm as I took the photo (from the road). The wader flew from the waterside to a high knoll, beyond which a man accompanied by two dogs was wandering round another loch, trying his luck with a fishing-rod.
An idyllic afternoon was spent at Achnahaird Bay. We picnicked above a rocky cove in the sun and saw gannets, razorbills, ravens and great skuas. A pair of black-throated divers seemed to be doing some pair-bonding and this adult red-throated diver was in the company of a juvenile.
A small flock of kittiwakes brought great delight as I haven't had many sightings of this neat gull. They fished in a circle for some time near the sandy beach, now and then flying closer in past the rocks.
Greger chose the other half of Quinag ("koonyag") for our second hill-walk. As we clambered out of the car I spotted a large raptor planing across the eastern flank of Sail Gharbh. It was almost certainly an eagle but in no time at all it had vanished from sight. These immense landscapes where birds can be spotted and lost in seconds are as frustrating as they are exhilarating.
I had possibly a second glimpse of an eagle later on, as we peered down a stone-chute on the western side of the hill. A large golden bird cruised into the mountainside far below us and was never seen again. I had to be content with wheatears, which were everywhere.
We had remembered this side of Quinag as being just big rounded summits and broad ridges; we'd forgotten this nice little bit of rock-scrambling on the side of one of the unnamed tops.
The popularity of the mountain is illustrated by quite severe erosion in several places; this traverse has been "stepped". Beyond Greger is the magical bealach where we encountered the ptarmigan(s) in early May. Alas, none today.
All too soon it was time to go home. We stopped at Loch Droma for a coffee (no osprey this time!) and when we set off again were amazed at the sudden stream of traffic we had to join. We'd never seen a queue of vehicles snaking its way across the Dirrie More like this before.
Then it struck me. As we'd driven through Ullapool the Caledonian MacBrayne ferry had been coming in from Stornoway. These were holidaymakers from the Western Isles, heading (perhaps as heavy-hearted as us) back south.
