The sunshine continues: if you hear any Britons complaining about the weather this spring, you have my permission to scoff. This jackdaw seems to be enjoying it just like the rest of us.
Going on the number of plumlings that currently festoon the tree, I predict that come around late July, the whole thing is going to fall over. Should it stay standing, even 2023’s glut (forty-four pounds of fruit) may be surpassed.
Hello, it’s day 4,999. I’d better not forget to get the camera out at some point tomorrow.
The weather has been pretty good for some time now and things seem to be emerging earlier this year, nature-wise. It feels we should be well into May already, but that month doesn’t start yet for two more days. The dandeliion clocks are heavy with seeds, and an explosion is surely imminent.
Red kites (Milvus milvus) were nearly extinct in Britain at the end of the last century but in the 2000s, thanks to some serious efforts on behalf of conservationists, have made a remarkable recovery. If you are aware of the place you might not think that Luton would be one of their strongholds, but that is where this picture was taken, just on the edge of that town. There were a number of them gliding around this afternoon seeking prey, and clearly, Luton is not a great place to be a fieldmouse.
A profoundly uneventful Easter Sunday saw me barely even leave the bedroom, let alone the house. Well, I’m allowed days like that now and again (it would have been chaos in town, anyway). For photographic purposes it was helpful that the sun was shining, illuminating the lettuce leaves on the windowsill rather pleasingly. I’ll go out tomorrow.
The really big buggers that used to reside in our sheds — like this one, for example — have not been seen for some time, unfortunately. But the ones presently residing in the accommodation are big enough, and if it the evidence is anything go by, they are laying eggs.
A true natural wonder of the world, the beaches of Ascension support a large population of green sea turtles, Chelonia mydas (though they don’t look green: the descriptor refers to the colour of their fat, not their shells). In the first half of the year hundreds come ashore nightly, dig pits in the sand and deposit dozens of eggs. Some time later, tiny hatchlings emerge and scurry back to the water: a few will survive to maturity and so the cycle begins again. Humanity seems to have learned to look after them slightly better than in the past. What you see here is a female actually laying: it is only during this time that they can be approached without scaring them, as they concentrate far too hard on pushing out the eggs to be bothered about surrounding humans on the Monday night ‘Turtle Tours’ organised by the Ascension Conservation Centre. One of the more worthwhile £10s I have ever spent. Red torches only are allowed.
Taken from the Saints Club bar: the only pub in Georgetown. I was wondering what creatures had been leaving big piles of poo outside my accommodation, but now I know. Good grief, this place really is the middle of nowhere.
Once again, not the most exciting day, photographically or otherwise. But this one can make the cut for the curiosity factor of a pre-8am shot in Manchester: the earliest taken there since December 2022. These used to happen a lot more often; in 2019 alone I count six. But in 2019 I was still trying to be some kind of ‘manager’ at work. Not any more. These days, the Exchange Square pigeons can have their early morning paddles without me. In fact that was the last day I will be on campus until the 22nd.
The bird theme continues: this is the fourth in a week. A well-lit moment presented itself, and I took it. The local Canada geese were very noisy this morning — a symphony of honking, which I attributed to the fact that it’s surely gosling-making season around now.
Being 42 