Heroic Tropicbird Failures

All this Tropicbird nonsense has been utterly fantastic for my blog stats. 2500 hits today, nearly 1000 yesterday. That's over a week's worth in a couple of days, and proves what we all knew all along, which is that birders love a tale of a dip, especially a big controversial one, far far more than news of another one bagged. It's a bit like an ID faux-pas, we would all prefer to revel in the discomfort of a crass cock-up than congratulate somebody on a hard call well made. This is easily one of the best bits about birding, the enjoyment that can be gained from the misfortune of others makes it far easier to console oneself in similar moments. I'd hesitate to say I dipped at Pendeen, but I've been involved in perhaps one of the best ever tales of woe. You will note, I hope, that despite a long and arduous return journey from the South-west full of expressions of what-might-have-been accompanied by much sighing, I was still able to have a bit of fun at the end of it. And what would birding be without the fun, really?

Yes it was a UK Tropicbird, and it would have looked pretty good on my list for sure, but it was only a bird, and I'm not defined by my list. And besides, less than a year ago I was on Little Tobago with hundreds of them. And this is of course where I lifted my gag additions to my Cornwall photos from. Now I wasn't expecting a pile of comments, but well done to those who read my post for what it was. Anyone who has lingered on this site will know that I am very rarely serious, and indeed most often completely frivolous, bordering on plain stupid. It amazes me though that occasionally people still fail to judge where it is that I am coming from. All I can say is that when I read it, I know exactly what I mean....

Most of the time all that happens is various people get irate, call me a variety of colourful names, and presumably drift off to other less offensive websites, like the Guardian homepage. But sometimes those that grasp the wrong end of the stick surprise and delight me. And we are talking about a heroic failure here - I cannot think of a single time when I have been more delighted than this morning when picking up the phone to a birder I know. I was in the office, naturally, earning money for optics through which to miss rare seabirds, and on answering a small voice came down the line. Serious. Sincere. Curiously excited, as though she were happy for me and about to let me in on a big secret. She had been at Pendeen too, and the conversation went something like this.

"You do know what you've seen don't you?"
"Errr"
"Have you looked at your photo?"
"Ah....um....err" (I was beginning to possibly understand at this point....)
"The photo on your blog. The Gannet photo. Have you seen it?! On the edge!!!!"

She made my day, plain and simple, and I cannot thank her enough, other than of course to relay this conversation on my blog for everyone else to read. If you know who I am talking about, you will know that this is typically wonderful. Brilliant even, and I could not have hoped for better. I had dared to dream, but assumed that most people would realise I'm an inveterate joker. But there is perhaps something going in Herts, a sarcasm filter of some description, for a little while later I saw a post on BirdForum that read:

"Well it certainly isn't a hoax anyway. Take a look at Jono's website at the photo of a Gannet taken on Sunday at Pendeen - the extreme right hand side of the photo. So there is one thing worse than being there and not seeing it at all!"

followed by another post from somebody else saying:

"My God! Does he know?!!!"

I've refrained from naming the individuals concerned for fear that I might embarrass them - I'm nice like that - but to all of them, I can't thank you enough, it makes missing the bird eminently easier to take, and I'm still giggling.

Kingfishers make me happy

There is something about Kingfishers, can't quite put my finger on it. Is it the electric aquamarine, or is it that they can shoot, whilst perched, a stream of excrement well over 4 feet behind them? Whilst this is amazing, after careful thought I think it's the colouration which is probably the more appealing. Simply stunning. Seeing as I had no children today, I went to Rye Meads RSPB to see them, and they didn't disappoint. I spent about three hours watching them and came away extremely happy. If you're feeling down (I wasn't, I just like Kingfishers) then doing this will give you a huge lift. They're feeding young at the moment, so are seen very frequently. They are about to fledge, and the nest hole must by now be filthy, as each time they come out after delivering a fish they spend a long time washing, and this is when the best views are to be had. Rye Meads, Hoddesdon. Go. Go now. Well, wait until it's light outside again and the reserve is open, and then go. You won't regret it.

There are also some friendly Tufted Ducks

In other news, I have a new washing up brush. In keeping with my shower brush, it is also pink, and equally lovely. I am a modern man, and like to keep in touch with my feminine side. It won't mean I suddenly enjoy washing up, but it may make it slightly more bearable. All in all, I'd rather be birding. We have a three day weekend coming up, and Mrs L has said that I can have one day of it to go wherever I want, sans enfants. A White-tailed Lapwing has just pitched up on Merseyside, so I might be going there. On the other hand, you can only see it occasionally through a large fence (with small gaps) at a distance of roughly 300m, it will mean eight hours in the car, and the fuel to get there and back will be in the region of seventy quid. Then again, it's the something like the sixth record for Britain. Twitching is a mug's game. I only went to see the Blue-winged Teal at Paxton tonight because I had to be in Cambridge anyway....

Most unenjoyable.

Goodbye Rat Race

Well, the so-called Credit Crunch has claimed yet another victim. Me, on Thursday. Oh, what a shame. Not really. Most people seem to be more sorry for me than I am. Nobody likes getting made redundant, and I have to say it was difficult sitting opposite my boss, and then having to listen to the HR spiel, and then going back to my desk afterwards to pack up, say goodbye. But when I found myself on the pavement, bins in my pocket, at about 11.30 on a fine February morning, and with the next three months fully funded, I felt much better. No more uncertainty, I can actually plan for the future. In fact, bar the one obvious negative, I can only think of positives. Here are a few of them:

1) No more bullshit at work.
2) See above - there was a lot.
3) More time with the kids
4) More time for birding.
5) Even more time for birding
6) I don't have to go on the Central Line ever again
7) Healthy living is once again a possibility
8) Dramatically reduced stress levels
9) The garden will get sorted out
10) More photography
11) Summer days with the conservatory vents open and chilled beer
12) I don't have to tell people I'm a banker

Anyway, I went home, had a nice lunch with Mrs L, and went birding in Wanstead. The following day, Friday, I went birding in Wanstead. What a terrific change of lifestyle! It won't last of course. My new career is in Childcare. Clearly finance is not the place to be for the next few years, if only because of the associated stigma. So the plan is that I will be a stay-at-home dad. For the last ten years I have been working about 50 hours a week, consequently I didn't really see the kids during the week (or at weekends once I discovered birding...). So now I get that chance, as we have pulled the kids out of nursery to aid the cashflow. I will also be responsible for housekeeping, cooking, and something called "shopping". This latter activity is a bit of mystery, as I discovered today. I went "shopping", and bought a 10kg sack of rice, and some shampoo. Mrs L then came home and enquired what was for dinner. Err... Anyway, it turns out that food does not just appear in the fridge, you have to go and buy it. So my attempt at shopping earlier today apparently goes down as a failure, even though millions of people the world over eat rice 7 days a week. Mrs L cooked Macaroni Cheese whilst I bathed the children, as we had plenty of water.

Another task I need to get to grips with is washing. I am told that you can't just sort it out by colour, which would be my natural inclination, you in fact have to sort it by fabric type and colour. This means that each load consists of approximately 3 garments. Ridiculously inefficient. Not helped by Mrs L being somewhat of a keen knitter, which means that 50% (and rising fast) of all the kids clothes are made of wool. And wool is not wool is not wool, if you see what I mean. It is far more complex than that. You get wool blends, and balls of wool which are multicoloured, so you can get a small baby's sock that is only 15cm long, yet which contains 21.324% merino, 24.19% alpaca, 27.5% cashmere, 10% nylon, 2.52% silkworm, the rest unknown, and in addition has 18 different colours in 53 different shades. And I am supposed to know that I therefore have to wash it on program "Q" or it will turn into a thimble and I will get served with divorce papers. And kids clothes also only last for about 2 hours, or until the next meal, whichever is sooner, so you can totally empty the washing basket (about 25 small yet subtly different loads), only to come back later that day and find it overflowing again.

But none of this has started in earnest yet. The 2 youngest are still in nursery, the eldest is with Grandma for half-term (planned when I was gainfully employed), so that means this week is the calm before the storm. Which means I am off birding, hurrah!

"What load would you wash me on?"

So on Monday I went to Norfolk for the day and had a marvellous time. I started off in Lynford with 3 Hawfinch, some Siskin, which took me to 160 for the year. Next stop Strumpshaw Fen - my Penduline cup truly overfloweth this year - another 2 birds feeding on Reedmace. Got excellent views, even helped a blind lady get a tick. Set up the scope, got the birds slap bang in the centre, invited her to look. "I can't see anything, are you sure its there?". Hmm, the bird has probably moved, let's have a look. Nope, still there, right in the middle. "No, it isn't there". Quick look, yes it is. "I still can't see anything". Quick check, yep still there, it might actually be having a nap on the reedmace. Anyway, repeat this for close on 5 minutes, and remarkably the Penduline stays on the same reed for the entire time. Finally, on about the 6 minute mark...."Oh, I can see it, I can see it! I don't know why I couldn't see it before!" "Because you're registered blind?" "It's almost exactly the same as the reeds!" "Well, apart from the brown back, grey head, black mask, and being bird-shaped, yes I agree, basically the same". Perhaps I am being unfair, they are quite difficult to pick out in the reeds, but generally not when someone has lined up a really rather good scope at 30x with the bird right in the middle.

Goose, washed on the wrong load - just look what can happen.

Two miles down the road and I am on a mission to take a photograph. If I am honest, this is all just a cruel prank. Yes it's a year-tick, yes it's a good bird, yes it's a challenge to find the bugger, but really, it's all about an email I am hoping to send to Paul later on in the evening. Tee hee!

Duck sp.

Ended the day at Stubb Mill roost, Hickling, where I counted about 15 Marsh Harriers, and 19 Cranes came in to roost in the enveloping darkness. I drove straight home, sniggering all the way, and sent my email. I am so juvenile.

Goodbye Rat Race. I won't miss it.