California I'm coming home

Just a taster tonight – I have been somewhat over-extended and have yet to go through any photos from what was unanimously declared by my kids to the best holiday ever. We went to California for a fortnight, hired a camper van, and drove up the coast from Los Angeles to San Francisco. We spent the weekend in the city and then returned to LA via Yosemite and Sequoia National Parks. The freedom that the van gave us and the scenery it allowed us to be part of was nothing short of sensational. We camped in some amazing places, Los Padres National Forest, the pacific coast at Big Sur, underneath the Half Dome in Yosemite during the solar eclipse, and amongst Giant Redwoods in the Sierra. Nearly every night involved a family meal around a camp fire under the stars, and with the van having a shower, toilet, fridge and freezer you could hardly say we were roughing it. Cold beer and barbecues, a 6.2L V8 engine and 12mpg, we truly lived the American dream for two glorious weeks.

We had been talking about this trip for years, but had never quite managed to simultaneously have the time and money to make it happen. I lived in California as a child, in Santa Barbara, and my love for the State is undimmed by the intervening years and yet despite this I hardly ever go there. Mrs L and I did almost exactly this trip following more or less the same route about 15 years ago before we had kids, but that is the only meaningful visit in decades, and we had always wanted to repeat it once they were old enough to appreciate it. A shame that when we finally went America is in the grips of an extraordinary crisis of identity, but the ethos in California is about as far away from the myopic world vision of the current White House as you can get, and people went out of their way to apologise for the state of their – my – nation. Many people we spoke to described it as “a difficult time”, which indeed it is, but in truth it did not detract from our trip at all. The magnificent American landscape transcends politics thankfully, and whilst Trump and his army of clowns are trying their best to change that, for now the places made famous by John Muir and Ansel Adams remain awe-inspiring.

There was not a lot of birding. Whilst the RV put us in amazing places, it was not as if I could get up early without disturbing the family and scoot off to various hot-spots. I was largely restricted to the campgrounds and wherever we went hiking. This was sufficient to notch up well over 100 species though, including around 10 ‘new’ birds – I say new, I am not entirely sure. Back in 2002 Mrs L and I kept a list of what we saw, but I unfortunately lost that precious bit of paper many years ago and simply could not remember much of it at all. My one recollection was of Dark-eyed Junco, and bird I subsequently saw in Kent! This trip was therefore an opportunity to put that right, and so every day felt like a new experience even if it probably wasn’t. There will be a separate post about the birds but they were a sideshow really. The scenery and the travelling en famille were what it was all about. For anyone thinking of doing a family trip like this, just do it, it was unforgettable.

Thumbs up indeed!

The Great British Airways Red Kite Bonanza

Today I spent a lot of time in the garden staring skywards. British Airways kindly made it possible for me to be at home this bank holiday weekend rather than abroad as originally planned, which meant I was able to engage in one last push for treble figures before I shut up shop for the summer and join the odonata-loving hoards. 

So after I had mowed the lawn and weeded a couple of flower beds I plonked myself in a garden chair for some well earned relaxation and started to read my phone about the continuing chaos at Heathrow that I had thankfully only minimally got caught up in yesterday. Who needs Florida anyway?  Red Kite used to be a difficult bird here, although in late March and early April local birders' chances increase as birds start to move around a bit. As with Peregrine I missed all the early action, but I was confident that it would come good. All it needed was a bit of monumental IT failure karma.

And so five minutes after I had sat down in my chair I espied three very distant and high dots. Two were Buzzards and the third was a Gull. Whilst I was unsuccessfully trying to alert Bob to the former, a nearer bird caught my eye....

I raced upstairs, grabbed my camera from my as-yet unpacked hand-luggage and dashed back downstairs again to find the bird still on view. Most satisfying, and most importantly has allowed me to notch up three figures on the patch before June. Without this bird today I was probably looking at Spotted Flycatcher in August for #100. Anyway, here it is. I've gone for the more authentic "back of camera" approach as the photo is so rubbish.

After social media-ing this bird to the max I settled back down in my chair, content in a good job done. Basking. About 50 minutes later, ever alert, blow me if another one didn't sail across the sky. Given it was heading the opposite direction to the first, I assumed it must be the same bird coming back, but the photo tells a different story. This bird has a less ragged tail, and appears to also have a better set of wings, as well as two distinct notches in P7 and one in P8 that the first bird doesn't have. It was also a lot lower which resulted in a photograph that was inexplicably equally as naff, thus:

A bit more pottering in the greenhouse, a spot of lunch and some more sitting, all accompanied by the inner glow which only comes from the realisation that in 13 years of skywatching in the garden, including two years of domestic godliness, I'd only ever seen two Red Kites and had now doubled that number in under an hour.

However.....

I had joked online about the hat-trick being 'on' without really believing it, so when this flew over about two hours later I was genuinely surprised. Inspecting the photo it looks to me like this is a third bird, and one that is progressively in finer nick than the first two. Look at the tail on that! 

And so despite having my holiday plans trashed by corporate ineptitude that borders on gross negligence, I reckon I can say have had a pretty decent day, unlike many people still gamely trying to go on holiday (my trip was only four days, I've simply binned it). Three Red Kites over the same small patch of airspace in one day is superb, and I can head into the summer period pleased with a good job done.

Big Willy and Rabbit Shit

You will have to excuse the title, the reasons for which will become clear as I continue. I am in Austria, taking a break from relentlessly birding Wanstead. I deserve it. My contribution to the status of the patch list is beyond reproach. Or it was in about 2014. Ok, 2013. Anyway, it is the first time I have properly visited Austria, a short autobahn hop from Germany to Italy over a decade ago does not really count, and I am enjoying it immensely. There are two main reasons for this – cake and beer. Cake and coffee are traditional, but away from work I am not a huge coffee drinker so I have been largely substituting.

Who knew?

Cake is something of a Viennese institution, and the multitude of konditorei are living proof that this proud heritage is in rude health. Kaffee und kuchen for the five of us was generally around twenty quid a pop – this is broadly equivalent to what a “meal” in a fast food place would cost, and some way below what coffee and bite to eat would set us back in, say, Canary Wharf, so we have been making sure to stock up as frequently as our stomachs will allow. At least once per day. The Viennese understand cake, and crucially they understand size. There is none of this namby-pamby amuse-bouche going on, which whilst delicious leaves you wanting. Instead you have immense slabs of utterly exquisite and beautiful sugary goodness which are so vast that about two thirds of the way through you secretly hope you will discover a caterpillar nestled away and push the plate away in disgust. Oh sorry that’s fruit, my mistake. With no such relief possible you plough on through, wondering if the children will let you skip dinner and just go to sleep at 4pm.

Panther for scale

Beyond the cake we have had a wonderful time. We started off in Budapest having decided that a bit of culture should replace the traditional summer beach holiday, and after a day and a half of exploring Hungary’s capital city took the train to Vienna. As I explained in my last post I am a very cultured individual, and I hope to ensure my children gain this same sense of wonder and enchantment that travel frequently brings. With this firmly in mind we booked a day trip to the town of Melk, famous for its incredible Abbey and collection of manuscripts. And flying bishop’s hats.

We hadn’t actually intended to visit the Abbey at all, but by some miracle we managed to curtail the normal breakfast buffet extravaganza and catch the earlier of the two trains we had in mind. This left us with nearly two hours to kill before our scenic boat trip down the Danube to Krems, and seeing as the kombitikett got us in we thought we might as well. Amazingly we had the place more or less to ourselves having arrived a few minutes before the first coach trips, and thus were a crucial few minutes before everyone else. This allowed us time for careful study of the exhibits in the museum section that started off the visit, which unsurprisingly was devoted to religion, and which regular readers will know is one of my very favourite topics. Kicking off the displays was a Madonna and child, fantastic…

We neatly avoided this.

The Abbey is Benedictine, although I enjoy all religions equally. Especially those that charge for entrance. And boy do they need to. The amount of opulence of display was quite incredible. Sickeningly so actually, I have never seen more gold gilt in any setting anywhere. Piety seemed somewhat absent, and I was left with the distinct impression that this particular branch of religion was more about the glorification of priests than the worship of any deity. Clearly I am tinged with scepticism in this field, but the bishop gear on show would not have been out of place in Tutankhamun’s tomb. Robes, gloves, bejewelled slippers, and staves and cups so glittering they could have been props from Indiana Jones. All of these exceeded however by the flying mitre, displayed nattily seven feet above the floor in a suspended glass case, with DANGLY BITS extended as if the hat were flying. I was so in awe I forgot to take a photo and as a family we all enjoyed this very much, imagining the levitating bishop of yesteryear gliding serenely to his gold-cushioned altar to preach humility to the unwashed masses.

A simple cup

The spartan altar

We had of course come to admire the world-famous collection of manuscripts, not to poke fun at the excesses of the eighteenth century. These were housed in a magnificent library adjacent to the chapel that looked every inch the real deal, with endless wooden bookcases, spiral staircases, rolling ladders and ancient tomes floor to ceiling. We spent all of two seconds looking at the manuscripts, as none of them appeared to be on view and the room was manned by two fierce-looking guardians, there to ensure you didn’t attempt to actually touch anything (which is fair enough really, some people just have no sense of history), and proceeded to the chapel. If we had thought that some of the finery on show earlier was OTT, this place was dazzling. You didn’t need lights (although these came on automatically just as the automatic door closed behind you - no expense spared), the church was aglow. In all honestly I could not say it was beautiful, it was too gaudy for that. But it was highly impressive, which is no doubt exactly what it was intended to be. I don’t know much about history, but I am led to believe that living conditions for the vast majority of the population in medieval Europe were pretty execrable. Not so for priests and monks it seems, who although simple people in the service of God appeared to have vast wealth with which to gratuitously cover all surfaces with gold leaf, tapestries, silks and so forth. But they did brew decent ale so hats off to them I suppose. Gilded flying hats with streamers.

Please give generously such that we may buy more gold. For purely venerative purposes you understand.

Notwithstanding the fabulous terrace with views over the Wachau Valley, the highlight of the Abbey were the toilets immediately after the gift shop (all Abbeys worth their salt have gift shops). After several coffees earlier in the day (no trappist ale as yet) I was severely in need and it was with great relief that I entered into some spotless facilities. And it was with no small amount of delight that I registered that the brand of toilet roll dispenser was “Big Willy”. It is the smaller things in life which for me really make the difference. You can take all the glittering frescos you like, all the medieval books and candelabras, all the stained glass and gem-encrusted paraphernalia in the world and I am still going to be more pleased with a puerile piece of anodized aluminium. My children, bless them, expressed similar delight.

It got better though, albeit you suspect with less innocence. After we had walked around the Abbey gardens and descended back into the town in order to catch our boat, we walked past a sign advertising Rabbit Shit. No really, I took a photo. Per the sign this meant chocolate pearls, but still, would you really call it that in the hope that people would pop in? A little further on a sign felt the need to translate Apfelstrudel into apple strudel. I am not sure exactly what kind of person would stare hard at the word Apfelstrudel and come away none the wiser, but nonetheless it capped off an excellent morning, and we headed to the boat with a spring in our steps.

7 Loooong weeks

Gratuitous LBB photo. Plenty more of these to come.

Hurrah, t'is the summer holidays! Seven weeks of providing non-stop entertainment and food, and refereeing endless squabbles between siblings. This is my first go at the summer holidays, and I am pleased to report that so far so good. We are two weeks in and all three offspring are still alive and uninjured, the house is still standing, and I am actually feeling pretty perky. Can't help feeling that the last two weeks have been the easy ones though. Mrs L had one of them for the first week, and then we spent the second week being looked after by my parentals in Fife. The real fun starts now I expect. Tomorrow morning a friend is coming to play, which means that by about midday the house should look like the the Gaza Strip. When the friend leaves, there will be a fit of immense proportions as the realization dawns on Muffin (trial pseudonym) that he now has to clear it all up. It has happened before; I could have a million conversations with him trying to pre-empt what will happen but it is futile, and we both know it. On the plus side, there will be an away leg later on, and I will be down to two for an afternoon. I don't yet know when, but I'll be sure to book a BBRC rarity.

Some time ago I wrote that I should start lists for the kids as they'll surely be interested in the years to come. This I have now done, and they are pretty good too. This past week or so, the youngest, here-on-in known as Pudding, has managed to tick Great Spotted Cuckoo, Ferruginous Duck and Ring-necked Duck. Muffin got both the ducks but not the Cuckoo, but unfortunately middle kid, Pie, wasn't present for any of them, and was looking the other way when the Bee-eater flew past (note how the "Blue-cheeked" is utterly superfluous here - we all know what species I am talking about). Need to sort this out as she is lagging, as can be seen here:

Muffin
Sharp-tailed Sandpiper
American Golden Plover
King Eider
Hoopoe
Spoonbill
Ferruginous Duck
Ring-necked Duck

Pudding
Hoopoe
Spoonbill
Iceland Gull
Black-winged Pratincole
Great Spotted Cuckoo
Ferruginous Duck
Ring-necked Duck

Pie
Cattle Egret
Hoopoe
Spoonbill

Am I a good father or what? Unique parenting skills. This is merely the list of notable birds they have seen. I figure that if they can ID Oystercatcher in flight aged 5 there is no real need to record any dross (other than Hoopoes).

In a bid to enhance their fledgling lists, and in a desperate effort to eke out another day before terminal boredom sets in, we went to Breydon yesterday to try for what is now a Pacific Golden Plover. Didn't see it, but I did learn that Muffin can do Oystercatchers. Poor kid. Rather charmingly he is also now pointing out birds and butterflies to the other two. Despite dipping it was really a rather pleasant day out in the sunshine, waders galore, and including a bargain lunch at ASDA in Great Yarmouth.

Other hot news is that the Dip-monkey has started a blog, and is very worryingly notching up posts at a rate of knots. Like me he is a committed father, family-man, and dedicated patch-worker....

Giant Kittiwake, right. A new species.