There has been a long period where no herons were to be seen on the weir on the Hebden Water in town, but in the last couple of weeks there has been one there every day. Presumably, the same one: but I can’t confirm whether this is one of the two that were photographed regularly a few years back. It’s probably not. Anyway, it’s nice to see one of them again: they really are the most patient of creatures.
In training for the ongoing Pigeon-Duck Conflict (depicted several times on here), Bob completes his latest bout of callisthenics with close supervision from the sergeant-majors. He’ll soon be ready for action down at the marina, where it’s rumoured there are also geese about, so he needs to work on those reaction times.
I’m sure there are worse things to be remembered for, and less appropriate ways of memorialising a loved one. Those whom Barbara left behind are hopefully gratified to see this being properly used. (That is an actual squirrel, in case you were wondering.)
Went on a walk that was neither particularly scenic nor particularly straightforward, but it did have one saving grace: this beauty hovering over the grass of Cutacre Park, between Bolton and Wigan. What must the mouse feel? Does it know its hunter is up there, waiting for it to poke its head out of hiding just for that one crucial second?
They did seem like they were quite keen on the idea of making more of themselves, but I moved on before they got down to anything. Apparently these are white-spotted fruit chafers (Mausoleopsis amabilis). Apparently the St Helena Research Institute (hi Becky) would like to know exactly where they were spotted: so I tag these as residing half-way up the slope between the lower Munden’s battery and the one at the top of the hill, just above Jamestown. Ecologically, they’re not supposed to be here, but that is, sadly, true of a great many species, both animal and vegetable, that are now found on St Helena.
I have spent the last three days in Namibia’s, and one of the world’s, largest nature reserves — the Etosha National Park, so it’s understandable that wildlife shots have featured. There have been many species that I have seen and managed to photograph but which, due to the strict one-photo-per-day rule, have not made it on here, and today you might have had white rhino; elephant; kudu; and the cute, teddy-bear-like rock hyrax. But I am going with these springbok simply because of the fabulous golden light in which they are bathed. My penultimate full day in Namibia.
I do not know what you call black-and-white striped pedestrian crossings in your country, but hopefully this associative pun works very well for UK readers. Taken in the Etosha game reserve.
I was about 20 feet away from this magnificent creature this afternoon. There was plenty I was thinking of saying in this commentary but, mostly, I’ll let the picture speak for itself. ‘Awesome’ is an overused word but here, it really had meaning.
This chap definitely looks happy, and I know why — because it has just wolfed down a huge dragonfly that was about the same size. The whole thing, apart from a discarded wing or two, went down in about ten seconds. Had I been quicker with the camera (which was a few yards from me at the time as I’d just got out of the swimming pool) you might have seen the feeding, but it was happy to hang around and wait for me to do its close-ups.
Biology note: the defining characteristic of the skink (as opposed to other types of lizard) is apparently their stumpy little front legs, obvious on this shot. This is the second skink to appear on here down the years, after the one I saw in Saigon in 2019.
The dominant theme of the last few days has been sand, so it’s about time we had some local fauna on here. This is not only the first time I have ever seen flamingos in the wild, but, I am fairly sure, anywhere. Apparently over 200,000 of them live on Walvis Bay’s lagoon. This place is where I came in with Namibia, on the flight out to St Helena some 16 months ago (see this shot): compared to that, today’s picture is certainly fuller of life and rather pinker. Flamingos are pink — it’s the way they are — and they definitely seem to like each others’ company.
Being 42 