Plenty of work to do after Easter, which today meant another day locked in the house with limited photographic opportunities. The knowing look on the face of this rook was the best I managed, and even then it’s somewhat out of focus. But then again, that also epitomises the day.
I don’t know who or what has been the oldest living creature to feature on the blog: there has been one confirmed nonagenarian (Clare’s gran) but more likely it’s some tree somewhere or other. But I can now declare this lamb to be the youngest. If this had been born much before 3.50pm today I would be surprised. The caul is still very obvious and being cleaned off by the mother ewe. It’s eyes are open, and it was beginning to move. Quite a sight in fact.
Robins succeed because they’ve commandeered the ecological niche entitled ‘we really don’t give a shit about those human creatures’. We turned over a pile of compost on the allotment and this fearless chap was picking it over before we’d moved five feet back. He got the best pickings — woodlice, centipedes, worms — everything else was just in his wake. Birds! Ignore the humans! Be the robin! You’ll not regret it.
Anyone in Britain will tell you that the weather over the last two days has been extremely pleasant. I’m off work for a while, too. I think the relaxed appearance of these lambs is something I can identify with. Mum? Well, she’s just knackered.
“Lately, the humans have been conspicuous by their absence, don’t you think dear?”
“Indeed. There’s this bloke with the long hair who often hangs out by the riverside. But I think he’s harmless.”
“I agree. That’s why we let him take these close-ups.”
This is not the first time that I have photographed evidence that the fake owls that stand on some of the buildings in Hebden Bridge fail to deter the pigeons in any way. But it is the first time I have caught one with a pigeon actually sat on its head. The humiliation is complete.
Hollingworth Lake is a reservoir, and for 200 years has also been a sort of strange, inland beach resort, where thousands of people once flocked on weekends — something that can still seem as if it’s the case. Even at 9.35 on a Sunday, early morning sunshine had brought lots of people out today, including me (because it’s healthy). The birdlife didn’t really care however. They watch us, just as we watch them, I am sure.
Walking down to the station in the morning I noticed a commotion by the side of the road, heard desperate cawing. I thought at first it was a bird with a broken wing, flapping around, maybe having been hit by a car. Then I saw what it actually was. It will be forever regretted that the focus ended up on the wall and not the hawk; I only got the one shot off before it picked up the starling (I think) in its talons and flew off to enjoy its breakfast. But other than that slight lack of focus I can’t complain too much about this one. Surely there is a detectable look of pride on its face. I am also reminded of this picture: which William Blake/Thomas Harris fans will recognise.
Media rhetoric suggests we should all be grateful that Our Glorious Leaders have announced a ‘roadmap’ out of lockdown but none of that changes the fact that for now, and for weeks yet, there’s nothing to do. The ducks continue to have a far better social life than us, At least the evenings are getting lighter, the days (a little) warmer.
The sun was definitely out this afternoon. Spring feels like it’s in the post, and once it does break out in full I doubt many people will be staying at home, whatever the powers say. I think it is a birch tree at the bottom of the garden that’s broken out this rash of catkins since I was last up there.
