Christine's walking & birds blog

A walk round the river paths and the spit started well, in dry weather and with a chiffchaff singing at the end of the quarry road. But the rain soon began to fall, and with quite a lot of swearing I finally gave up and put my bins back in the rucksack. I just managed to rearrange my angry face in time to return the cheerful greeting of another birder.

A dozen of so meadow pipits, possibly new in, were feeding on the football pitch; and a constant muttering from the conifers at one end proved to be a flock of redwings. Out on the spit the wind made photography (or even snapping) impossible; otherwise I would have tried to record the greenshank that was present among curlews, turnstones, and ringed plovers.

I've done well with greenshanks so far this year, from an early one in February to this local bird making six altogether.

I crossed the camp-site in pouring rain as a yellow helicopter took off. An ambulance was there, so maybe someone was taken ill. Both this and the camp-site at Ardmair are now open, and there were perhaps twenty camper vans/caravans on this one today.

Back home, I took the siskins through the window and through the rain.


Greger took over the feeding of the birds almost as soon as we moved here. He's not such a cheapskate as I am, and once he knew what they loved (sunflower hearts) he provided it for them. (I used to buy the less expensive cereal mix - which was a waste of time, because they just used to throw the cereal out and take the seeds. This resulted not only in a fine mess beneath the feeders, but also a small patch representative of the three main cereal crops of the western world - i.e. wheat, barley, and oats.) So I salute G - and all other non-birders who feed their garden birds.