Holding Pattern

Well, Mrs L has gone, and I am on my lonesome. Me, my two girls, and my purple toe. Muffin returns on Sunday, and I am genuinely looking forward to seeing him. It has been a week, and I have missed him. Although he is going to be bitterly disappointed that Daddy won't be able to play football with him, there are plenty of other things we can do, and he is so self-sufficient these days that he is going to be incredibly helpful with me incapacitated.

I must apologise again for all the photos of my foot. Not nice I know, and in retrospect I suspect that they must have put you off posting messages of sympathy and concern. I promise I won't post any more. Unless it gets infected.

So what has been happening? Well, unsurprisingly, hardly anything. Bar being driven to the hospital, I have not left the house. I have barely seen a bird. I just heard a Great Spotted Woodpecker whilst brushing my teeth, but so far today that is the sum total of my avian adventures, and the rest of the day, indeed week, holds precisely nothing in store. Mrs L did a big shop last night that should see us through until she returns, and I suspect that we're just going to hunker down.

I will endeavour to continue publishing exciting posts, and in the absence of any birding, I am afraid that you must expect a few more insects, starting with this Grasshopper. TTFN.

The Toe of Unhappiness

After sleeping on it, in the vain hope that it would be miraculously cured overnight, I decided that there was nothing for it but to head to A & E to get it looked at. It has gone a whole lot more purple since I took yesterday's photo. Whipps Cross was surprisingly and pleasingly efficient, and within two hours it was confirmed that that I have indeed broken it. I wasn't really paying attention, so I can't remember if it is the first metatarsal or one of the next bones along, but whichever, I have cracked it and thus now have a new subject upon which to rant. For the next six to eight weeks. My advice to you is to log-off now, delete the bookmark, and come back in mid-September.




I am so annoyed, I cannot begin to tell you. And it is all my own stupid fault as well. It's not as if Mrs L had left the ironing board out, or one of the kids had left a car on the floor. No, it was just me misjudging a running-leap from the garden. Arse. And the timing really sucks. Tomorrow Mrs L leaves for a weeks choir tour to Cornwall, and I am on my own with three kids. The doctor's advice was to ensure my foot was up as much as possible. Somehow I can't see that happening. I mean FFS, this could not have happened at a worse time. I'm not sure I can even drive. Walking around the patch is going to be challenging to say the least. I predict a lot of garden-watching. And swearing.

Next week I have to attend the fracture clinic. Presumably this is when they issue me with a large boot thing to wear for a month. Whoopee. Just what I wanted as autumn kicks off. Why couldn't I have bust my left thumb or something, or got a hang-nail? We are very very far from being amused.

So, what now? Well, less dusting for a start....

Are you eating?

Hope not, but if you are, look away now. Let's face it, only the feet of small children are nice. Teenagers, adults, old people, all essentially disgusting, and I think that my feet are pretty unattractive. However, this is not going to prevent me sharing them with the world.

If you read that twitter thing on the right, you will perhaps be aware that I stubbed my toe today. Whilst the dishwasher repair guy (Trevor) was here, he requested an old towel. I knew I had one in the garden that I use as a white backdrop for moth-catching, so I went and got that. As I skipped gaily back indoors, I misjudged the patio step, caught my left big toe, and crumpled to a heap on the floor. But Trevor needed that towel, so I got up, carried on, and gave it to him, at the same time noticing blood leaking from underneath my toenail.

In the event he didn't use the towel. Nor did he fix the dishwasher. His recommendation was to just buy a new one. Many Thanks Trev. Should I also get a new toe?

Look!


Ouch. I clobbered it good and proper and it hurts a lot more that the photo would suggest. It has turned purple, and I can barely bend it. I think I am going to need to go to Whipps Cross A&E tomorrow morning as I can't walk. You wouldn't have thought that a big toe is particularly important, but in fact I have discovered that I need it to work properly. My parents say that if it is broken I will need to wearing some kind of cast boot thing. Let's hope that it is just bruising, as I have no desire to wear a stupid heavy boot through the summer holidays. I mean what if I need to twitch something? Also please note that the white areas on my feet that look suspiciously like where flip-flops go are in fact due to a Michael Jackson-esque skin-whitening disease, and not at all indicative of the life of a perpetual bum.

Back on Track

The magic has been lost. I went out on Wanstead Flats for three hours this morning and didn't see a single Southern Migrant Hawker. Gutted. Plenty of birds though, but it was hard work. I reached the dizzy heights of 45 species, which is pretty average, including some non-guaranteed ones such as Hobby, Little Owl, and Lesser Whitethroat, but as is always the way, failed to find some that should have been nailed on. For instance I couldn't find a Blackcap or a Goldfinch. Chaffinch, Stock Dove and Heron all eluded me. I would generally expect to see most of these within about ten minutes of leaving the house, but such is life. Part of the reason is that I may have started too late. I set the alarm for five, but didn't manage to leave the house until half six, by which time many of the smaller birds become difficult, and Heron is usually a first half-hour after dawn job. Of course none of this matters. I had a nice time, and that was the sole purpose of my visit. Well, that and find a Wanstead mega, but this happens only infrequently, whereas I always have a good time. Except when I get mugged, which so far has only happened once, and long may it stay that way.

Highlight this morning was probably the Little Owl. I rarely see them perched up in the day at this time of year, there is too much foliage, but today it chose a bare tree. I was having a brief scan, more in hope than expectation, and there it was. I tried to walk around and get it from the front, but whilst doing that it was flushed by a Jay. Thanks Jay. I see the Owl perhaps one time in ten, and then fifteen seconds after I see it, you do too and chase it off. And could I then get a photo of you? Not a chance.

So that took me to half nine or so, and the rest of the day has been spent either playing with Pie, or arguing on the phone with a bank, who think that charging £25 for going £25 over my overdraft limit is perfectly ok. It gets better actually, as they charged me twice. Basically an annual direct debit I had forgotten about took me over by the £25, so they kicked it back and charged me £25. Did they call me to let me know? Go on, have a guess?! Then three weeks later the same company tried to claim the direct debit again, and with me still none the wiser, this then obviously took me £50 over my overdraft limit. Not wishing to be outdone, the bank kicked it back again, and decided that another charge of £25 was in order. I enquired to the lady on the phone whether this might continue indefinitely, with me getting charged £25 every three weeks until I owed them my house? I think the call centre staff are forbidden from recognising sarcasm, as she said that that wouldn't be possible. So far I have recouped one of the £25 "fees", and I am damned if I am going to pay the other one. Apparently it is in my terms and conditions. I informed the lady that I couldn't care less if they came and wrote it in large letters on my front door, and that I would not be paying it. I furthermore informed her that Vince Cable felt the same way about their banking practices as I did, but I'm not sure that his is a household name in India. I am currently awaiting a response from a supervisor as to whether a 100% rate of interest for a zero day overdraft breach strikes them as fair and reasonable, as the direct debit, the direct debit kickback and the fee all get processed on the same day. I have also asked whether a phone call informing me of the problem and giving me the opportunity to add funds to the account might not in fact have been more reasonable. So far I have not been called back, however I feel I have the moral high-ground on this one and expect to report victory soon. Honestly, what a bloody nerve. On the plus side, all I have with this particular bank is this overdraft, so they can keep on adding £25 to it for as long as they want and see if I ever pay it. Bastards.

One of four Kestrels today.

Once Upon a Time in a Ditch in Kent

"Birds?", I hear you ask hopefully. "Some kind of rare ditch-dwelling warbler?" Almost right. Another Dragonfly.

I apologise, I thought long and hard about what to do, and then went out on the patch early this morning. This post is already sounding suspiciously similar to yesterday's, so it will come as no surprise that I found nothing. No waders on Alex, and no ducks (I'm hoping for Garganey) on the ponds in the park. Depressed, I headed home to get ready for insects, part of a prearranged plan with Bradders and Roy. Yesterday had been so successful that we had decided that an attempt on the Southern Emerald Damselflys in Kent was in order. These have been twitchable exactly twice - proper rare.

Near the prescribed ditch at Cliffe were some real Dragonfly people, searching for the same thing. One of them had a net and everything. As a birder, I think I can safely say that they are a funny bunch. For a start they only talk in Latin.

"Nos es reprehendo is hic fossum pro Lestes barbarus"
(We are checking this here ditch for Southern Emerald Damselfly)

"Nos non instituo unus etiamnunc. Gero questus punctum"
(We have not found one yet, and are getting pissed off)

Roy understood everything they were saying. He can probably speak latin too, but for the sake of Bradders and I stuck to English. It was hard work, but eventually Roy found one, and shouted out "Quid est illa in fossa!" before remembering who he was with and instead pointing at the ditch. Of couse it was one, a female, and we all saw it well before it vanished. A short while later I relocated it in the same fossa, and pointed out to the ten or so other insect-hunters where it was flying. I was surprised to then see everyone running away from it, heading instead down the side of the ditch. Eh? I thought this was what everyone was here for? But no, grown men and women were running, running and pointing.

"Inviso ut! Aeshna Affinis est!"
(Look, it's a Southern Migrant Hawker!)

Unbelievably, I was now present at the first sighting of Southern Migrant Hawker in Kent for half a century, and I am possibly one of only three people in the country (the other two being Roy and Bradders) to have seen the species in two counties. Fortunatus sum. The Dragonfly people netted the pair briefly, for there were two, in order to confirm the ID. In the hand there was no doubt. Certum est, as they say.

All thoughts of Southern Emerald we forgotten, this was truly exiciting stuff. My Kent Dragonfly list is going great guns! We decided that we had better leave before it all became too much, so bade our farewells - Vale! Eheu fugaces labuntur anni etc. We picked up a Spoonbill on the way out, and then tried a stretch of Downland for some birds more insects. Butterflies mainly, but we also found a couple of day-flying moths that failed to pique Bradders' interest. He'll cave one day, I'm certain of it.

Lector benevole, latine loqui coactus sum

In which I start twitching insects....

Sorry, more insects. I have a weekend without wife or children, and in a cruel twist of fate, it is also without birds. My plan was to go on some kind of photography expedition, or perhaps a mega-twitch, but I never formulated a concrete plan for the former, and the biggie failed to materialise. Hmmm, what to do? The patch, naturally.

So, up at 5am and out. The first bird seen was the White-cheeked Turaco, which I think makes it four days out of the last five, Thursday being the only no-show. As usual it was chuckling to itself, and jumping about the same tree recently vacated by the cat. I've said it before and I'll say it again, great bird! The cat is fine by the way. Once we got it down, I took it with my neighbour to the vets, where both were given a relatively clean bill of health, apart from the neighbour had worms so the vet had to give him a pill. I think I have that the right way round. Here she is by the way, in case you have lost a cat. A lady up the street is currently looking after it, but will only give it back if you can confidently answer a lot of questions about it.



Anyway, bar the Turaco, not a lot doing in Wanstead. Kingfisher on Alexandra Lake early doors, and a Common Tern fishing on the Basin were the only birds of note, so another brilliant use of sleep-time. I had to spend the rest of the morning going to Farnham and back to pick up a new camera bag, but once back I still had no bright ideas. Paul had called last night and said he might be twitching a Dragonfly today, would I like to come? Twitch a Dragonfly, you must be out of your mind?! What a crazy notion, no chance, have fun though.

I joined the others at Rainham, where we all got into Bradders' Subaru and headed off to the secret site. It isn't much of a secret any more... The target was a Southern Migrant Hawker, of which just six had been recorded in the UK before. In the world of Dragonflies, I am led to believe that this about as mega as it gets. The twitch was an outstanding success, and we added numbers seven through about fourteen to the British list, thus over doubling it. In the world of birding, this is the equivalent of finding a small flock of White-tailed Plovers in a field, including some fledged chicks. Now I'm not much into Dragonflies, so it did feel a bit odd to be seeing a species that almost all of those who are into them had never seen, but they'll get their chance. They're probably making plans for tomorrow even as I type.

Unfortunately I forgot my camera, so you don't get to see what one looks like.

Not really.









Pretty smart huh? As insects go, fairly impressive, but still just a Dragonfly though, so I'm not getting too excited. My feet remain firmly on the ground. Although I don't keep a list of Dragonflies I've seen, it was a tick for me, as it was for Paul. My list, if I kept one, would be 17, whereas his is 45. That's if he kept one of course, but he hates lists so it's unlikely.

At the same time as the Southern Migrant Hawkers, I also saw Small Red-eyed Damselfly, and Scarce Emerald Damselfly, both of which were new for me. Roy was with us too, and pointed all these out, as I didn't have a clue. I did not realise that he is a Dragonfly fanatic, but I can now testify that he really is. Here, have a photo of the Emerald. And a yellow one, a female Ruddy Darter I think. Might be a Common Darter of course, no doubt people will put me right.




So, I can now say I have twitched an insect. Well, I suppose I twitched Shaun's Lime Hawk Moth, so I have now twitched two insects. I also saw a Blair's Mocha Moth at Longstone's Cafe on Scilly, but I was there to twitch the cake. It showed well. Briefly.

Judicious Whooping

I have nothing much to say, but some judicious garden whooping this morning in just my underpants produced this. My neighbours are I hope used to the sight of a slender and athletic-looking topless man cavorting around the garden with a large camera. No police showed up at any rate. A man's garden is his own private kingdom, no? "Whoop whoop!"

I don't think I will ever tire of seeing this bird, dressed or not. It is quite simply superb.