As reliable an early signifier of spring as anything else — and the crocuses are early this year. Nor has their February arrival diminished them in number, certainly not on this lawn in front of Lancaster Castle, anyway.
An early start for me on this Sunday morning, for a walk that bagged me the County Tops of Kent and Greater London (which are very close together in case that sounds like a more significant expedition than it was). Not a great walk scenically, but redeemed by the sight of four deer in the woods. You try capturing these guys on camera, particularly if they know you’re there, which this one clearly does — but he tolerated my efforts for just long enough before scooting away to rejoin his gang.
Somewhat continuing a theme from yesterday, but hey. Definitively, the first blossom I’ve seen of the year turns up in the courtyard of the Ellen Wilkinson Building, as it has done before (it’s a finely sheltered spot).
The guys give it the “mean and moody, but still cute” look, as if they are modelling for the blackbird version of a Hugo Boss ad. A shame this one is a little out of focus, but I couldn’t persuade them to repeat the pose, sorry.
Out on a walk on the hillside above our house, and my father-in-law Dave acted as the ‘spotter’ for this one, pointing out the kestrel that was hovering above the grassland, hunting for mice or sparrows. Obviously wanting its profile done, it then landed and obligingly waited on this lamp-post for a minute, so I could get the shot (that’s the old, ruined Heptonstall church behind).
A Happy New Year to you all. I mention no politics here; I will merely say that had the shot of another bird-of-prey, the hawk on 5th March, been just that little bit better in focus, that would have been my favourite shot of 2021. However, instead I will give it to the minutes-old lamb captured on April 11th.
The weir is where the herons work, in town. Maybe I return to this subject quite a lot — this particular heron might have been on the blog several times by now — but it’s sometimes a relief to see one, as on days like today (spent 95% inside, marking), there isn’t very much else to see. May they continue to fish happily away.
Jonathan is a giant tortoise, originally from the Seychelles but resident at Plantation House in St Helena since the 1880s. It is not known exactly how old he is but there is good documentation that he is at least 189 years old, and possibly older. This makes him the oldest land animal on the whole planet, at least among those for which there is evidence.
I was thinking at first, it’s a shame that he doesn’t know he’s a record breaker. But — you know — he looks like such a cool dude, that I think he probably does.
Specifcally, a yellow canary (Crithagra flaviventris) — a name which seems a little tautological, but that’s the particular species which resides here on St Helena. They have done very well since being introduced, as there’s thousands of them, all over the island as far as I an tell. And very attractive birds they are too. I like this shot — it was trying to hide away in the undergrowth, but I shot it (metaphorically) all the same.
A new place means a new ecosystem, and new flora. I have absolutely no idea what these babies (they are about the height of my hand) will grow into — cacti perhaps, but that’s just a guess. I don’t have a garden here as such; these are growing at the top of the rocky bank at the back of my house, that currently marks one of the limits of my world. But they’re something cute to look at, all the same.
Four (or, if you count like the St Helena Government, three) days into quarantine and I already have enemies — namely these little ants that seem able to get into sealed boxes and packets of food, march across my ceiling (as here) in regimented lines, turn up anywhere and everywhere. They’re irritating rather than harmful but I am still on a war of extermination. It gives me something to do, anyway,
Being 42 