Went on a walk that was neither particularly scenic nor particularly straightforward, but it did have one saving grace: this beauty hovering over the grass of Cutacre Park, between Bolton and Wigan. What must the mouse feel? Does it know its hunter is up there, waiting for it to poke its head out of hiding just for that one crucial second?
He’s just discovered running. Which means he’s discovering the pleasure of chasing things. The gull will tolerate it for now: revenge will come later, when the kid’s chips get stolen.
This cameo played out in the grounds of Carisbrooke Castle, in the centre of the Isle of Wight — worth a visit, if you want a recommendation. It was the place that Clare and I saw out much of our silver wedding anniversary: we were married on 2nd July 1999, and have made it this far, at least.
The wirebird — officially, the St Helena plover (Anarhynchus sanctaehelenae) but nobody calls it that — is the one species of bird that is endemic to St Helena. That is, it is found nowhere else. It is very much the symbol of the island, appearing on its flag. In my three visits here so far I had never seen one, but there it is. This is quite a coup, as this is one of the planet’s rarest birds; the latest census counted about 640 of them, so this single one is 0.15% of the entire global population. Birdwatchers, eat your heart out.
Anyway, that’s it for St Helena — this time. But, I will be back.
After yesterday’s exertions I did not feel like going very far at all; like this mallard, I was content just to sit and watch the world go by, to be honest. (And tomorrow won’t be much different.)
My ability to summon a robin now does not even need to involve any digging. Just go and sit down in the garden for five minutes and he turns up anyway, just to check things out. With largely frozen soil at the moment, though, I guess he’s probably hungry. This may well be the same bird as depicted here or here: the photos are all taken in the same place (our allotment) and robins are territorial beasts.
As seen on the canalised part of the River Calder, in Brighouse, early this afternoon. I hope it was enjoying the sunshine, as it gave its demonstration of fluid dynamics.
Another low-contrast kind of day, spent at home working, little to see other than what the local landscape, weather and birdlife allow. In the end, this was the day’s best combination of those factors.
These geese literally live in the car park of the Co-op supermarket in Hebden Bridge, and have done for some time. Today, the synchronous exercises: though Gertrude on the right has gone for the ‘tuck’ a little early.
Both species — jackdaws and roofers — are becoming perennial aspects of the house view. The roofers on the Mill have been working there for nearly six months now, and I have the photos to prove it. Even on another frosty morning. Maybe they just like the view too.
On another dull day, in all respects, the waterfowl of Hebden Bridge once again save things photographically. As I’ve said on here before, I do like mallards, they seem quite an agreeable species. The duck to the far right definitely looks smug about something.
