Spent a little while today watching this bird (probably a jackdaw although I have given up trying to identify these species accurately) working out how it could get at the bounty inside this rubbish skip with its marginally open lid. This was the moment of triumph.
Anthropomorphism: the attribution of human characteristics or behaviour to an animal or object. Hard to avoid, particularly if you are the maker of a Disney movie. But I still say this fly looks proud enough to me. And like it’s enjoying the sunshine.
Another one of these time-of-year things, annual photographic events — you’ve seen this flower (wood cranesbill) before, not to mention insects plunging themselves within, to extract the bounty.
Dropping down from Sergeant Man to Tarn Crag, in Easdale in the Lake District, I saw ahead a small herd of young deer, about three hundred yards ahead. I stopped to get the camera out. They stopped and looked at me for a while; I mean, look at this picture, they clearly know I’m there. They sized me up. I sized them up. Got a few shots. Then off they went, to do whatever they do during the daytime, and I carried on my way. Everyone was satisfied with the transaction I think.
As has happened before, an otherwise dull day at home was photographically enlivened by visiting the cave spiders in the shed. Meta menardi is about the largest species of spider you will find in Great Britain and we have at least four of them happily living out their lives downstairs. I love the little hairs on its legs. But, OK, I probably wouldn’t want one scampering over my face or anything.
This swan ain’t having anyone mess with its brood of cygnets this year. The coot high-tails it out of there under the frosty stare of the big white mother with the orange beak. Well, I probably would too.
This is full-on urban nature — taken in the centre of London, Hyde Park specifically.
This old guy walks down our street at pretty much the same time every day and I know is the one who leaves these crusts out on the wall for the birds every day. And most days the bounty is accepted (see this shot for example). Maybe the crows, rooks, jackdaws, whatever they are, see him as some kind of divine benefactor.
Impossible to be sure whether this is the same heron that has (possibly) had a few appearances on this blog over the last 18 months — including this one for instance. Comparing the photos I think this one may be a different, and younger, one. To me it looks a bit like a very thin person who has just been reluctantly dipped in a swimming pool and is now standing by the side of the water, shivering, knock-kneed and wrapped in a grey bathrobe. But it was a sunny spot to dry out this morning, either way,
I can see no explanation for the burst of feathers on the neck of this pigeon than it has recently had an extremely close encounter with some kind of ballistic missile — a piece of shot, an air rifle pellet — not unlike (in pigeon terms) one of those stories where a WW1 trenches veteran got his cigarette case taken neatly out but he survived. Or Steve Buscemi’s character in Fargo (if you’ve seen it, you know). I apologise to the paid-up members of the Society Avoiding Cruelty to Pigeons on behalf of the perpetrator, but I didn’t do it, honestly, I’m just documenting.
Everyone was enjoying the good weather today. This robin in the garden had a look around, decided I was no threat at all, fluffed its feathers up, spread its wings and settled in for a few minutes’ quiet drying out time. This seemed a perfectly good response to the sunshine as far as I was concerned.
Being 42 