I am irresistibly reminded of a drag queen at Pride, or one of those amazing Brazilian samba women at the Notting Hill Carnival, posing for the camera in front of a line of stern grey coppers…. Happy Wednesday, little feller.
Back in 2012, in the Lake District, I pictured a vague blob in the far distance that may or may not have been a golden eagle. But this one is definite. You may, of course, live in a part of the world where these noble creatures hang out on street corners, but that’s not the case in Great Britain — except, it seems, in the far north of Scotland, where this huge bird took off from some trees nearby as I passed and flapped lazily overhead for a while. Until uploading the pic later and checking the details I wasn’t sure of the species, but the wingtip feathers are the giveaway: an eagle it is.
Wagtails are so named for obvious reasons, and this one was wagging its tail so enthusiastically that it’s almost disappeared from the shot. Taken with a long zoom, in fairly gloomy conditions, next to the Aire & Calder Navigation in Brighouse.
“Just out for a stroll, Mum. Hanging out with the lads, at the Football Museum, y’know.”
Scientists down the years have discovered that compared to many other species, birds are fairly intelligent creatures, and this one was clearly intent on achieving its goal this afternoon — get into a nut, using only its beak and claws. Whether it was ultimately successful I don’t know, but it was certainly putting in the effort.
Until seeing this one close up today I had never realised what a bizarre-looking species the turkey is. Even its feathers look wrong, like it’s actually a giant pinecone with an absurd neck and head arbitrarily stuck on it. And the nose…. or whatever it is. Takes some going to carry this all off with dignity but I guess it manages it. For the next six months or so, anyway.
The annual outcrop of Canada goslings is usually good for a pic, and so it proves again in 2023. This was one of a family of four — six if you count the watchful parents — who at the moment seem to have set up home on the canalside marina.
This little creature is clearly used to humans, as it flew over and perched as close to me as any ‘wild’ bird has in recent times, demanding that I do its close-ups. The light wasn’t quite right — it would be nicer if its eye wasn’t in shadow — but I did my best to oblige.
Saying this is taken at Annandale Water is correct, but don’t imagine some picturesque Scottish glen. The Water does exist but is a mere puddle, and in fact the placename refers to the services on the M74. My morning was spent driving home, with this being taken during the only break in the 6-hour trek.
Don’t expect much in the way of variety of scene over the next few days. I spent all the month’s money in Cornwall, and payday is keenly awaited. Even the pigeon turns away somewhat disdainfully from the camera as I try to inject some interest.
I have developed some druidic powers. I can, fairly reliably, summon a robin. It’s quite easy actually — simply go up to the garden, dig over part of it, and wait five minutes. One will usually appear to check over the bounty that has been revealed. This one was quite unperturbed by the presence of both myself and Clare, and has a look on his face that suggests he thinks we should be doing more digging — I reckon robins are evolving to use humans as manual labour, in fact. Perhaps they will be our overlords in a few dozen millennia,
Being 42 