This is certainly one of the bigger flocks of geese I have seen. I reckon there are upwards of 250 visible on this photo and I didn’t even get the head. How do they co-ordinate this? Who makes the decision to go at a particular time and place? What if one of them heads off and no one follows, does it get annoyed or feel like a bit of an idiot? So many things we do not know about the animal mind.
On another dull day, in all respects, the waterfowl of Hebden Bridge once again save things photographically. As I’ve said on here before, I do like mallards, they seem quite an agreeable species. The duck to the far right definitely looks smug about something.
There is a reason why robins have been depicted on here so often, and certainly more than any other species of small bird (ducks and pigeons will rival them in the overall rankings). This is their complete lack of fear of humanity. Basically, they have established that they can make us work on their behalf. Dig or (as I did today) strim the garden and one is almost certain to appear to check the work is done and then pick out the insects left behind. There’s a bit of zoom used on this shot, but not much.
I was going to post something about how the truly large cave spiders that once lived in our shed (see here, for instance) haven’t made an appearance for a while. Then this morning — the day after this picture was taken — a “spider the size of a Buick” (to quote Woody Allen) turned up in the bathtub. This one’s big enough however. And I needed those bottles to decant the plum wine….
Back in 2012, in the Lake District, I pictured a vague blob in the far distance that may or may not have been a golden eagle. But this one is definite. You may, of course, live in a part of the world where these noble creatures hang out on street corners, but that’s not the case in Great Britain — except, it seems, in the far north of Scotland, where this huge bird took off from some trees nearby as I passed and flapped lazily overhead for a while. Until uploading the pic later and checking the details I wasn’t sure of the species, but the wingtip feathers are the giveaway: an eagle it is.
I have developed some druidic powers. I can, fairly reliably, summon a robin. It’s quite easy actually — simply go up to the garden, dig over part of it, and wait five minutes. One will usually appear to check over the bounty that has been revealed. This one was quite unperturbed by the presence of both myself and Clare, and has a look on his face that suggests he thinks we should be doing more digging — I reckon robins are evolving to use humans as manual labour, in fact. Perhaps they will be our overlords in a few dozen millennia,
I’m fairly certain these are juvenile common waxbills (Estrilda astrild), a member of the finch family. They don’t yet have the bright red bill that gives the species its name (as it looks like it has been dipped in sealing wax) but everything else about them matches the description, particularly the red stripe through the eye. The one on the lower branch flew off the instant I pressed the shutter, and is fluffing himself up ready to make the jump. Taken on my walk to the summit of the island, Diana’s Peak — more photos from the day can be seen on my other blog.
Certainly a red kite, a species of bird that was close to becoming extinct in the UK some decades ago, but thanks to a number of programmes of reintroduction, now making a fine recovery. I caught a number of these on camera in Wales some years ago, but those were coming to an organised feeding station. This one was as wild as they come, soaring on the thermals above a road in Lincolnshire. It turned into the sunlight just as I had it in the sights.
What is it with robins as a species — why are they, more than any other type of wild bird, so completely unfazed by being a few feet away from a human? Not only that, but a human who has stopped walking, and is pointing a camera at them? This one even hopped from side to side for a minute, offering me a selection of poses. This one won. I hope he approves.
A pigeon food-fight, a moshpit of grain consumption, of a kind that must say something about how evolution will progress for this species, though what that is, we don’t yet know. The one in the middle seems to be staying above it all, however. But probably he’s just taking a quick breather.
Being 42 