Unst has been very good to me over the years, with three lifers and a whole host of good birds. It's the most northerly of the islands, and involves two ferries to get over, with the [poor, neglected] island of Yell in the middle. This time around there was yet another new bird awaiting me, a Rustic Bunting that had been knocking around since almost the start of August, faithful to the plantation and surrounding gardens at Halligarth. Amazingly we didn't go up there on our first day, but I am of course very patient when it comes to bird twitching.
A glorious morning, we were on Unst by half eight, and scouring Halligarth before nine. A Yellow-browed Warbler made itself known, and the plantation was eerily still. Usually it's somewhere you visit when the wind is howling, as the four walls afford shelter in at least one corner, but today there was barely a breath of wind and the sun was shining. Garden Warbler, Willow Warblers, even an Acro. Brydon gave us the gen on the Bunting, and even had a poke around in his garden for us, but there was no sign. Disappointing, but with a Subalpine Warbler just down the road our spirits lifted. Especially when we pulled up alongside a gaggle of birders who told us that they had a 'funny' Pipit. 'Funny' Pipits are always good, except when they're just Meadow Pipits being bastards. Happily this one turned out to be a Pechora Pipit, and in marked contrast to the one on Unst in 2012 showed amazingly well. As did the Subalpine Warblers. Yes, plural - there were two, and one of them was singing. So, in late September, on the most northerly island in Britain, I was stood in my shirt sleeves listening to a Subalpine Warbler singing and had just seen a Pechora Pipit. It was vaguely surreal.
We carried on our itinerary, Unst is not a big place, visiting first Skaw for a quick bash as well as hoping to see the established Little Bunting, and then pottered around Norwick and Northdale for a while, picking up Barred Warbler, Yellow-browed, and a Common Rosefinch - the last of the expected scarce, so we were now in uncharted territory. It was very pleasant, and very warm. A few other stops followed, but it was fairly quiet, so we went back to Halligarth for a second crack at the Bunting.
But this time with Double Deckers. I am sure I have mentioned the magical properties of this particular piece of confectionary before, but it is worth mentioning again. Almost any bird, no matter how skulky or invisible, can be persuaded to start parading around in the open by the simple expedient of eating a Double Decker. It works every time. A fortnight ago in Norfolk with that Barred Warbler (though one could argue that was a bit of a waste), I had to bring one into play for the American Herring Gull in Kintyre, and I believe I also drew upon their power for the Ivory Gull. There are countless other examples. So, in keeping with the prescribed ritual, I solemnly handed them out before we started looking for the bird.
Believe.
It took approximately five minutes before the bird popped up in a nearby hedge....
With this superb bird under our belts, there was just time to try for a nearby Bluethroat. This hadn't been seen for some 20 minutes, but the potency of the Double Decker was still fresh and I flushed it out of a rose bush immediately. This rounded off an excellent day in which we saw a mind-boggling array of quality birds, and I got a tick to boot. When it's good on Shetland, it is often very good indeed.
Tuesday 30 September 2014
Monday 29 September 2014
Shetland 2014 - day 2
Another exciting* day on Shetland! We started close to home, in our own garden and our own plantation. One Siskin, and one Song Thrush! Yay! Things picked up with a Yellow-browed Warbler at the end of the road, and then we decided to twitch the village of Veensgarth, as the previous day it had held no fewer that three Red-breasted Flycatchers. Howard, being Howard, walked in a straight line and found all three. I did a lot of wiggling and following Howard, and saw only two, as well as a Barred Warbler. Found by Howard. Ho-hum. My moment of glory was imminent however.
Heading north now, we birded a selection of sites all the way up to Isbister. At Busta House there was a Yellow-browed Warbler and probably a Barred Warbler. Howard and I are calling it a Barred Warbler. Bradders, made of sterner stuff*, is calling it nothing. Basically I walked up the lane and heard a massively loud "Tchack tchack tchack tchack", louder than a Lancaster Bomber. Admittedly it wasn't quite right for Barred, but DB saw the bird in question and said he was 99% confident it was one. So H and I added the extra percent. Awesome.
Sullom Plantation once again tried to break my ankles, and held another two Yellow-browed Warblers and a very rare Woodpigeon. Isbister held a really grumpy man who told us there were too many tourists in Isbister. This is the Isbister that is at the most northerly part of mainland Shetland. The Isbister where the road ends. It turned out he was concerned that we were dog-walking sheep-rustling maniacs, and he got into his van to monitor our progress down the Iris Bed. Once he discovered that we had no dogs and had no interest in Sheep (apart from me, but I held it together) he became friendliness itself, but his initial reaction was so un-Shetland-like it was shameful. There were no birds other than Snipe. We left.
Back past the garden of Grosbeak Happiness, we checked a random garden at South Heog. This, naturally, had a Yellow-browed Warber in it. In fact most gardens we checked had a Yellow-browed Warbler in them, and it was generally a disappointment when we couldn't find one as it was pretty much expected that we would. Such is birding Shetland in September and October - I ended up with 23 in four days. And then came my moment of glory near Ronas Voe.....
I, J Lethbridge, found my own Red-breasted Flycatcher. Howard must have been looking the other way or something, and Bradders was unsighted by a row of bushes. Mine, all mine. My precious. It was not a hard ID, but I surprised myself by only calling it once as a Redstart before settling on what it actually was. Hurrah! Naturally my camera was in the car, but it looked approximately*** like this, which I actually took on Whalsay two days later.
* if you are a weirdo-freak
** party-pooper
*** very much
Sunday 28 September 2014
London Nightjar, a Patch Tick, and a 'Fun' Run
New 'filtered' through today of a day-roosting Nightjar just down the road from me at the Middlesex Filter Beds. A local birder had spotted it whilst out jogging, and it had subsequently attracted quite a crowd of London birders, some of whom needed it for their all-important London lists. I didn't, having seen breeding birds in the Surrey sector last year, but I went anyway as I've never seen more than a silhouette at dusk. I've long hoped to come across a day-roosting bird, but I don't really bird the right habitat for that ever to be a possibility.
The bird was roosting in more-or-less plain view. Naturally it had chosen the exact spot where a clear photo was impossible, but I gave it a go anyway (as did Shaun, even though it clearly wasn't a Gull). A real treat for loads of local birders.
In other news I've birded the patch both yesterday and today, and come away with a full-fat patch tick in the shape of a Woodlark thanks to a timely text from Nick who had discovered it zipping round the grassy area of the Flats calling its head off. I hastened down there to find it still doing exactly that, though unfortunately those less quick off the mark were not as lucky. And then this morning I had the inspired idea to check the Park for a pair of Wigeon that were no longer on the Flats. I know, genius. And of course there they were. They take me to the astonishing total of 97 for the year, which is so piss poor I cannot even begin to tell you. Next year I promise I will make more of an effort.
And finally, hot off the press, I have just survived a fun-run. The other day I lost a huge number of BPs by driving off to Norfolk with both sets of car keys in my pocket. My rescue mission to Belgium with the second set of car keys is apparently long-forgotten, and as penance I was forced into a participating in a family fun-run in aid of Make Poverty History. I am, as you might imagine, an unexceptional runner, and the concept of the words fun and run in the same breath is entirely foreign to me. Nonetheless I whacked on a pair of trainers and set off the Park to meet the family, who were ahead of me due to the need to twitch the Nightjar. I made it to the start and picked up my number just as everyone all set off. Mrs L and the eldest set off together, and middle child went with a friend. Needless to say I didn't see them again until the finish. This left me with my youngest, now aged seven. She is not built for running, with very short legs at this point in her life, so we took it nice and slow - frankly this worked for me. How slow? Well, 5km in 45 minutes is how slow. Whereas young Master L finished in 29 minutes, Mrs L in 31, with Pie and her friend coming in at 38 minutes. So yes, we were last (as in last in our family of five, not last last - gratifyingly there are people out there less fit than I am), and no, it was not fun. But I did it, and I did not complain as much as I expected. And I am still alive, which is obviously a massive bonus, and by no means a guaranteed outcome as far as me running anywhere is concerned. Welcome to the Revolution.
The bird was roosting in more-or-less plain view. Naturally it had chosen the exact spot where a clear photo was impossible, but I gave it a go anyway (as did Shaun, even though it clearly wasn't a Gull). A real treat for loads of local birders.
In other news I've birded the patch both yesterday and today, and come away with a full-fat patch tick in the shape of a Woodlark thanks to a timely text from Nick who had discovered it zipping round the grassy area of the Flats calling its head off. I hastened down there to find it still doing exactly that, though unfortunately those less quick off the mark were not as lucky. And then this morning I had the inspired idea to check the Park for a pair of Wigeon that were no longer on the Flats. I know, genius. And of course there they were. They take me to the astonishing total of 97 for the year, which is so piss poor I cannot even begin to tell you. Next year I promise I will make more of an effort.
And finally, hot off the press, I have just survived a fun-run. The other day I lost a huge number of BPs by driving off to Norfolk with both sets of car keys in my pocket. My rescue mission to Belgium with the second set of car keys is apparently long-forgotten, and as penance I was forced into a participating in a family fun-run in aid of Make Poverty History. I am, as you might imagine, an unexceptional runner, and the concept of the words fun and run in the same breath is entirely foreign to me. Nonetheless I whacked on a pair of trainers and set off the Park to meet the family, who were ahead of me due to the need to twitch the Nightjar. I made it to the start and picked up my number just as everyone all set off. Mrs L and the eldest set off together, and middle child went with a friend. Needless to say I didn't see them again until the finish. This left me with my youngest, now aged seven. She is not built for running, with very short legs at this point in her life, so we took it nice and slow - frankly this worked for me. How slow? Well, 5km in 45 minutes is how slow. Whereas young Master L finished in 29 minutes, Mrs L in 31, with Pie and her friend coming in at 38 minutes. So yes, we were last (as in last in our family of five, not last last - gratifyingly there are people out there less fit than I am), and no, it was not fun. But I did it, and I did not complain as much as I expected. And I am still alive, which is obviously a massive bonus, and by no means a guaranteed outcome as far as me running anywhere is concerned. Welcome to the Revolution.
Labels:
GivingItAtLeast85Percent,
London,
Nightjar,
Walking
Saturday 27 September 2014
Shetland 2014 - day 1
I'm just back from Shetland, where I've spent an extremely productive four and a half days. For the whole week before I arrived it blew light easterlies, so it was no surprise that the islands were carpeted with scarce when I arrived. I'd had a taster in Norfolk the previous weekend, but obviously Shetland is completely different, and Bradders, Howard and I were ready to give it 100%. Sorry, 110%.
There is unfortunately no cheap way to get to Shetland. The short hop to Sumburgh from one of the hub airports is expensive. Hiring a car once there is expensive. Putting your own car on the ferry from Aberdeen is expensive. I think my travel costs were in excess of £400, which is absurd when you think about it. I took a cheap flight on Friday to Aberdeen, and was picked up by the Braddersmobile, which subsequently found itself on the MV Hrossey. On Wednesday I flew back to Aberdeen from Sumburgh, and then on to Heathrow, throwing twenties out of the windows all the way. I could have flown to New York for less. But there is something special about Shetland, and whilst it didn't on this occasion deliver the absolute mega, the birding was amazing for most of my short stay. That's one way to look at it. Another way to look at it is to say that my Rustic Bunting tick cost me about 600 quid when I could have seen one in Kent a couple of years back for about a tenner had I been in the mood. You can choose.
The ferry was uneventful, which is the way I like it, and the following morning we were greeted by clear skies over Lerwick and a light breeze. Ideal really, and we set off to dip the Bluetail found the previous day by The Proclaimers (who knew they were keen birders?) who had come not quite 500 miles to do a spot of autumn rarity-hunting on the islands. Sumburgh Head looked glorious in the sunshine, and we worked our way down to the farm from the lighthouse, picking up Lapland Bunting, Red-breasted Flycatcher, Redstart and Yellow-browed Warbler along the way. A good start.
From here we moved on to Toab via Virkie, where a Barred Warbler was typically elusive and severely outclassed by a showy Red-backed Shrike. I love Shrikes. It may have been at this point we learned about another Shrike in East Yorkshire, but I digress.... We checked a few other sites on South Mainland before twitching an Arctic Warbler at Hoswick, and then had a quick look up the Swinister Burn, which as usual we simply waded up. Final stop of the day was at our favourite site at Channerwick, where the Sycamore of Happiness produced another Red-breasted Flycatcher as well as a Pied, after which we headed for our digs just east of Tingwall at a place called North Hamarsland. This had been picked over the net, and unlike the Decca where we usually stay, had a decent garden and a plantation to savour. This did the business straight away as whilst being shown round the place I glanced out of a window and saw a Barred Warbler about six feet away. Winner. I thought this would win me "best garden bird", but how wrong I was.....
We continued being shown around in minute detail, including an explanation of every switch in the house, and then we came to the toilet. A toilet which looked like a giant potty and had no visible flushing mechanism. And a suspicious tub of sawdust sat next to it. Yes, welcome London people to a self-composting toilet. WTF? We got shown how to use this too. First you sit on it and do a poo. Simple, and usual wiping rules apply. Then you get a big scoop of sawdust from the tub and chuck it down the hole after the toilet paper. Then you extract a handle and turn it anti-clockwise (very important) which rotates the drum and thus inverts the hole. Then you continue turning it until the hole comes back again (again very important, especially for the next user). Then you go and vomit in the sink. What could be easier? I mean FFS. Barred Warbler or no Barred Warbler, it is so unspeakably sordid it make me shudder. I didn't take a photo.
There is unfortunately no cheap way to get to Shetland. The short hop to Sumburgh from one of the hub airports is expensive. Hiring a car once there is expensive. Putting your own car on the ferry from Aberdeen is expensive. I think my travel costs were in excess of £400, which is absurd when you think about it. I took a cheap flight on Friday to Aberdeen, and was picked up by the Braddersmobile, which subsequently found itself on the MV Hrossey. On Wednesday I flew back to Aberdeen from Sumburgh, and then on to Heathrow, throwing twenties out of the windows all the way. I could have flown to New York for less. But there is something special about Shetland, and whilst it didn't on this occasion deliver the absolute mega, the birding was amazing for most of my short stay. That's one way to look at it. Another way to look at it is to say that my Rustic Bunting tick cost me about 600 quid when I could have seen one in Kent a couple of years back for about a tenner had I been in the mood. You can choose.
The ferry was uneventful, which is the way I like it, and the following morning we were greeted by clear skies over Lerwick and a light breeze. Ideal really, and we set off to dip the Bluetail found the previous day by The Proclaimers (who knew they were keen birders?) who had come not quite 500 miles to do a spot of autumn rarity-hunting on the islands. Sumburgh Head looked glorious in the sunshine, and we worked our way down to the farm from the lighthouse, picking up Lapland Bunting, Red-breasted Flycatcher, Redstart and Yellow-browed Warbler along the way. A good start.
From here we moved on to Toab via Virkie, where a Barred Warbler was typically elusive and severely outclassed by a showy Red-backed Shrike. I love Shrikes. It may have been at this point we learned about another Shrike in East Yorkshire, but I digress.... We checked a few other sites on South Mainland before twitching an Arctic Warbler at Hoswick, and then had a quick look up the Swinister Burn, which as usual we simply waded up. Final stop of the day was at our favourite site at Channerwick, where the Sycamore of Happiness produced another Red-breasted Flycatcher as well as a Pied, after which we headed for our digs just east of Tingwall at a place called North Hamarsland. This had been picked over the net, and unlike the Decca where we usually stay, had a decent garden and a plantation to savour. This did the business straight away as whilst being shown round the place I glanced out of a window and saw a Barred Warbler about six feet away. Winner. I thought this would win me "best garden bird", but how wrong I was.....
We continued being shown around in minute detail, including an explanation of every switch in the house, and then we came to the toilet. A toilet which looked like a giant potty and had no visible flushing mechanism. And a suspicious tub of sawdust sat next to it. Yes, welcome London people to a self-composting toilet. WTF? We got shown how to use this too. First you sit on it and do a poo. Simple, and usual wiping rules apply. Then you get a big scoop of sawdust from the tub and chuck it down the hole after the toilet paper. Then you extract a handle and turn it anti-clockwise (very important) which rotates the drum and thus inverts the hole. Then you continue turning it until the hole comes back again (again very important, especially for the next user). Then you go and vomit in the sink. What could be easier? I mean FFS. Barred Warbler or no Barred Warbler, it is so unspeakably sordid it make me shudder. I didn't take a photo.
Thursday 18 September 2014
Alex Salmond rules on my list
Today is a really important day. Today the people of Scotland vote, and the responsibility must be unbearable. This is a decision that could have huge repercussions, and none is more important than my list. The vote is essentially on whether my list stays at 419, or drops to 402, for I've seen 17 species in Scotland and nowhere else. That's what Alex Salmond has basically been banging on about for the last few weeks. I mean yes, he talks about national identity, about a proud nation etc, but when he says "Let's do it!" what he really means is "Let's wipe the smile off those smarmy UK listers, coming over here and taking our birds."
This is outrageous. I've paid good money to see those 17 birds. Seven of those have been on Shetland, involving five highly expensive trips. I suppose I did manage to subsequently see Hornemann's Arctic Redpoll in Suffolk and Buff-bellied Pipit in London, but Syke's Warbler, Lancie and Pechora could be more difficult. Last year I even bloody twitched Shetland for that Pine Grosbeak. Had I known.....And then a month after that I was on the Hebrides for the Harlequin Duck. I demand a refund! And as for my exciting Yank trio of Coot, Duck and Herring Gull, well they cost me a weekend and about £30 each, and were dull as ditch-water to boot. You think I went to see them for their aesthetic value? For what they could teach me about plumage? Pah! It was for my UK list, a UK that includes Scotland. And what about the Black Scoter? That sodding thing took me seven hours to find off Blackdog. Seven hours, some of them whilst being chased by a naked man wearing a sailor's cap. Is the Yes Campaign really saying that that was all in vain? How can that be fair, it's just so short-sighted. I guess I should count my lucky stars that the Sandhill Crane relocated to Suffolk where I saw it again, even though at the time it was one of the worst things that had happened in my entire life as it meant all my mates then saw it.
Then there's all the endemics. Where am I going to see a Ptarmigan in England, Wales or Northern Ireland? Or a Crested Tit? And what about Scottish Crossbill? Presumably all those will have to now pass a DNA test or they'll be shipped back across the border? The whole situation is nuts, and clearly hasn't been thought through properly. For starters what about all the economic benefits that birders bring to Scotland? On some trips I've forgotten the Double Deckers and had to purchase them up there, and on Shetland I reckon I've spent at least £20 on pies over the years. And this is just me! There are literally tens of other people like me who could also withdraw their custom, the damage to the people of Scotland could be immense. Westminster would have to increase their already massive subsidies to make up the shortfall. Oh, wait.....
This is outrageous. I've paid good money to see those 17 birds. Seven of those have been on Shetland, involving five highly expensive trips. I suppose I did manage to subsequently see Hornemann's Arctic Redpoll in Suffolk and Buff-bellied Pipit in London, but Syke's Warbler, Lancie and Pechora could be more difficult. Last year I even bloody twitched Shetland for that Pine Grosbeak. Had I known.....And then a month after that I was on the Hebrides for the Harlequin Duck. I demand a refund! And as for my exciting Yank trio of Coot, Duck and Herring Gull, well they cost me a weekend and about £30 each, and were dull as ditch-water to boot. You think I went to see them for their aesthetic value? For what they could teach me about plumage? Pah! It was for my UK list, a UK that includes Scotland. And what about the Black Scoter? That sodding thing took me seven hours to find off Blackdog. Seven hours, some of them whilst being chased by a naked man wearing a sailor's cap. Is the Yes Campaign really saying that that was all in vain? How can that be fair, it's just so short-sighted. I guess I should count my lucky stars that the Sandhill Crane relocated to Suffolk where I saw it again, even though at the time it was one of the worst things that had happened in my entire life as it meant all my mates then saw it.
Then there's all the endemics. Where am I going to see a Ptarmigan in England, Wales or Northern Ireland? Or a Crested Tit? And what about Scottish Crossbill? Presumably all those will have to now pass a DNA test or they'll be shipped back across the border? The whole situation is nuts, and clearly hasn't been thought through properly. For starters what about all the economic benefits that birders bring to Scotland? On some trips I've forgotten the Double Deckers and had to purchase them up there, and on Shetland I reckon I've spent at least £20 on pies over the years. And this is just me! There are literally tens of other people like me who could also withdraw their custom, the damage to the people of Scotland could be immense. Westminster would have to increase their already massive subsidies to make up the shortfall. Oh, wait.....
Gone but not forgotten.... |
Thank God |
Tuesday 16 September 2014
Kicking off my year list
I went year-listing in Norfolk at the
weekend. I think I may have left it a little late, as I was only on 195. After a
successful day I am now on 203, but this is approximately the total I would hit
in April if I were taking it seriously. Clearly I am not taking it seriously,
and whilst at various stages I have both decried and embraced listing, 2014 will
be my lowest ever total by a wide margin. I think I need to do better. I am not
saying that I am going to go all out and smash it in 2015, but if you do at
least pay a little bit of attention to listing, which patently I have not this
year, then you will spur yourself on to see a few more birds. That’s the answer
really – call it what you will, add a listing element if you want, but just go
birding. If you do, you’ll see more birds than I have this year. For instance,
my 200th bird was a returning Pink-footed Goose in a skein
high above Warham Greens. How is this even possible, how did I manage not
to see a Pink-footed Goose last winter? We were searching for a Red-breasted
Flycatcher that the ever-productive John Furze had just found, and the sounds
came floating down. I recognized it immediately of course – I’d seen hundreds of
birds in Iceland relatively recently – but that’s not the point. It means that
throughout the whole of the last winter period, I had not birded the coast. Not
been to north Norfolk, not been to the Yare Valley. But it gets worse -
Black-necked Grebe was a year tick too! In other words I have seemingly not been
birding anywhere. That’s not quite true of course. I had been to Morocco
– twice – and also to Cyprus during the winter period. It’s true that there
weren’t many Black-necked Grebes and Pink-footed Geese, but there were
outstanding numbers of Moussier’s Redstarts and Cyprus Pied Wheatears, neither
of which we could find yesterday on the coast despite giving it a really good
bash. Time is the killer, but still.
Go. Birding.
Go. Birding.
Nick, Bradders and I had a relatively
leisurely start, and didn’t arrive at Blakeney until about 9am. It was cold! I’d
been told to expect a nice warm day, wandering around in shirt sleeves not
seeing very much, but it was murky with a stiff breeze blowing and newly-arrived
Wheatears clinging to the sea wall. We quickly located the juvenile Red-backed
Shrike sheltering in a bush, and then went off to bird Friary Hills for a bit.
Nothing much doing here, so we pootled off to Warham Greens, always a favourite
place to go birding on an autumn easterly. We started at the Stiffkey end and
gradually worked our way west, picking up a couple of Redstarts and a Pied
Flycatcher. As we arrived at the most-westerly track, Garden Drove, we could see
a group of birders moving cautiously down towards us. We stayed put as they
pushed down, and saw a couple of Spotted Flycatchers in with various Tits, but
the real prize was a Red-breasted Flycatcher that eventually showed very well
indeed. Such smart little birds, I’ve now seen eight – simply by virtue of going
birding, incredible! Remarkably I’d seen one down this exact track almost two years ago. I
think it’s what they call a site having a track record. So almost impeccable
timing on our part. Arriving half an hour earlier and finding it ourselves would
of course have been perfect timing!
We birded our way slowly back to the car via
various Buntings, Wheatears and Finches, and following a spot of lunch in Wells,
parked up next to the track that led down to Burnham Overy and Gun Hill. The
hope was that with the freshening breeze, more and more migrants would start
arriving. Although we bumped into Nick, Clare and Tony who confirmed that this
did appear to be the case, beyond a few more Whinchat, Wheatear and a Redstart,
we couldn’t conjure anything better up. A few Yellow-browed Warblers further
east raised our hopes a bit, but I think it’s probably all going to be about
this week and next, it’s east all the way and Shetland could be immense. Seeing
as it wasn’t heaving, we decided to devote a small amount of time to the Barred
Warbler that had been there a couple days. Barred Warblers being what they are,
there was nothing happening, and so after seeing a Garden Warbler, cynicism and
boredom got the better of Bradders and he wandered off. He had however failed to
appreciate the significance of eating a Double Decker. Nick and I both had one,
and whilst I promptly fell asleep, Nick stayed awake and the subtle magic
started to work. Thus almost imperceptibly I became aware of a very shouty man
in the dunes…… “It’s there!” “In the Elder!!”
Eh? What’s an Elder? I think I need to work
on my bush identification skills. By now fully awake due to shouty man, I
managed to work out which bush it was, namely as it was the only one with a
bloody huge Warbler in it. Ah, so that’s what an Elder looks like. The Warbler
actually moved with surprising grace for a large lump – much like me – and was
in complete contrast to the Garden Warbler, which basically performed a series
of large belly flops in a bramble. I took a series of piss-poor shots with which
to grip off Bradders, and we proceeded back towards the car as it was now
approaching 6pm – no wonder I was tired….. On the way back we finally saw the
elusive Black-necked Grebe (a likely Norfolk tick for me, except it wasn’t as I
had seen one in exactly the same place six years and day ago), and then
performed our good deed for the day by pushing a Merc off a bank following a
parking fail by another birder that had left one of the rear wheels spinning in
mid-air and the body of the car grounded on the grass.
Labels:
Migrants,
Norfolk,
vagrants,
Year Tick,
year-listing
Monday 15 September 2014
Captain Cook discovers Wanstead
Yesterday was one of the most enjoyable days I can recall for a long time (PS, no birds...). It's Alistair Cook's benefit year, and as he's an Essex cricketer, and several of the Essex side came from the Wanstead Ranks, he brought the team over to Overton Drive for a morning of coaching the kids (my three included), a T20 match vs Wanstead in the afternoon, and then a gala dinner in the evening. We only attended the first two, but were there for something like eight hours - for a man of his stature to give up his Saturday and come out and inspire all these kids is simply phenomenal - and he was so nice too, so normal, no sign of the pressure he must be under. And hats off too to the Essex team that contained the likes of Bopara, Foster, Topley and Panesar, they were all brilliant with the children, and really that's what the day was all about.
The match itself was won by Essex on almost the final ball, and it was perhaps the least competitive cricket I've ever seen, and all the more fun for it! One of the Wanstead guys had won an auction to keep wicket for Essex, and had a whale of a time. A ten year old kid came out and bowled an over at some point and won man-of-the-match for doing so, Kishen Velani (local boy done good, played for England under-19s) tonked Monty for four sixes in a row, and Cook himself was the victim of a fantastic one-handed catch out at deep mid-wicket.
Wanstead Cricket Club has been superb from the moment we joined it some years ago. It is made up pretty much entirely of volunteers that give up their time to coach the kids, and the whole setup and atmosphere is all you could wish from a local club, and we are fantastically lucky to have it on our doorstep. All three of ours go there every week, let's hope they stay interested for a long time. Especially if it means that I can have great days out too!
The match itself was won by Essex on almost the final ball, and it was perhaps the least competitive cricket I've ever seen, and all the more fun for it! One of the Wanstead guys had won an auction to keep wicket for Essex, and had a whale of a time. A ten year old kid came out and bowled an over at some point and won man-of-the-match for doing so, Kishen Velani (local boy done good, played for England under-19s) tonked Monty for four sixes in a row, and Cook himself was the victim of a fantastic one-handed catch out at deep mid-wicket.
Wanstead Cricket Club has been superb from the moment we joined it some years ago. It is made up pretty much entirely of volunteers that give up their time to coach the kids, and the whole setup and atmosphere is all you could wish from a local club, and we are fantastically lucky to have it on our doorstep. All three of ours go there every week, let's hope they stay interested for a long time. Especially if it means that I can have great days out too!
Captain Cook asks my child a question - will she bat or bowl. It takes her an eternity to answer. |
Cooky and Trevor, head of Junior Cricket |
Monty takes a wicket and goes off to high-five the entire crowd! |
James Foster |
Nick Browne on his way to a fine score |
Ravi |
The centre of attention! |
Monday 8 September 2014
Meanwhile in Belgium...
Yes, I know. Another foreign trip. In my defence it was only Brussels, and seeing as we're all European, I'm not even sure it counts as a foreign trip. A somewhat hectic day, with a trip to the Isle of Wight tagged on afterwards - now that really is foreign...... Anyhow, arrived in the capital of Belgium nice and early to be greeted by a damp grey day. It is probably like this every day in Brussels, even if the rest of Belgium is bathed in sunshine. But it didn't stop a staunch
To the Woodcock! This was yet another pub serving deadly beer. I did not partake. |
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