Christine's walking & birds blog

I wandered off paths now well-known to me and found myself in a wide grassy ride between conifers, which opened into a clearing where a boss of grey rock was overgrown with heather and lichen.


Two large blue hawkers (probably common) ceaselessly patrolled the forest edge. In a string of boggy pools in another ride, a male black darter was my first of this species for the year - and a female nearby gave a better chance of a pic. I now know that it can be distinguished from a female common darter by the black triangle at the top of the thorax.


Several spotted flycatchers whisked busily about among larches, but I looked in vain for a migrating pied flycatcher - not very likely, perhaps, this far north.


And then came a sound - the faintest of sounds, so faint that I couldn't be sure whether it was a bird or something man-made. It came again, slightly louder, as though the caller was approaching - and then it grew fainter and I didn't hear it again. It must have been flying over but although I scanned the sky madly, the strong sunlight (yes we do get some!) and the tall trees limited my vision. I thought it sounded like a green sandpiper but couldn't be sure; just one of those frustrating, all-too-brief birding encounters that, though thrilling at the time, will remain a mystery.