On pacing myself

So in response to my last post where I mentioned I was a little tired of all the running around I do, a number of correspondents got in touch to say that this was all entirely my fault. I accept this a hundred percent, I am mostly busy because I make myself busy, and there are some conscious decisions that I could make (if I were brave enough) that would slow me down. The major one of course, and the route taken by at least one of these people, would be to turn my back on the stress of the rat race and go do something entirely different. Work, for better or worse, is mostly the root cause of all the running around. Not only because of the time it takes up during the day, but also because of all the opportunities it subsequently gives me to fill up my time with. Natch.

I had the opportunity before or course, and whilst I didn’t spurn it, perhaps I didn’t make the most of it. I had a lovely time though and will always remember quite how nice it was living a simpler existence, albeit still in London. Long summer days, still quiet mornings, a sense of calm despite small children.

Fundamentally I like to be busy, but I think the point I was trying to make was that it would be nice if sometimes, just sometimes, that wasn’t the default state. Bob made an interesting point on life continuing to speed by, but that people slow down, and I suspect his many years of experience ;-) are hitting the nail on the head here. I am getting older and there is no denying it. I am still trying to run around as if I were 21, but that the inescapable truth of it is that I’m a few years past that now and basically more tired. To be clear, I am not past it, whatever ‘it’ is, far from it, but perhaps I need to recognise that I have limits, and that those limits are coming in a bit. And that rather than increase the amount of things I do, I need to drop a few of them. That is the difficult part as I have a great many interests, none of which I really want to give up but some of which I may need to change.

So really this is another post about ageing, adapting to it, and how it annoys me that I even have to. But I have started in a small way, and I’m feeling sort of positive about it. This is because I was forced to buy a new camera bag, which is always a happy event. Camera bags are a topic for endless discussion because there is no such thing as a perfect camera bag. There are however many imperfect camera bags, another one of which is now in my cupboard! This one has wheels…..

Yes wheels. This is what I mean about ageing and it annoying me. I mean what camera bag has wheels? To be clear there is no hint of tartan, I have not yet reached that stage, but it certainly isn’t as manly and youthful as the backpack that it replaces. The sad truth is that neither am I, and after my recent trip to Arizona I realised I could not cope with the weight of my bag for an extended period of time. It contained a fair amount of stuff it has to be said, due to my pig-headed inability to choose between pure birding and pure bird photography and insisting on doing both. Hence a large lens, a large scope, two cameras, a few other lenses, a tripod for the scope, a monopod for the lens, chargers – you get the picture. The weight? 23kgs and there was barely a thing in it that I didn't use. There is no compromise possible in my mind on trips like this where I have multiple aims, but after lugging it around for a week I realised I can’t do it again, or rather I would prefer not to.  Hence the new old man’s bag. I have high hopes for it, and it doesn’t actually hold as much stuff so not only does it roll gloriously across airports and along pavements, but it will be lighter too. This is a bag for easy trips, worry ye not though as for hardcore bird photography trips I have a smaller bag that my poor wizened frame can still bear.

Ready to roll

Whilst on the topic of ageing, last night Mrs L and I met up with our university buddies at our traditional meeting spot, which is an old-school public house in London. A classic old boozer actually, utterly timeless, whilst those who frequent it gradually become more decrepit. Last night the starting topic of conversation was gout, which is entirely appropriate for our demographic. In a way this is entirely fitting, we have been going to this pub for years and gout is thus the natural conclusion. Not my gout I hasten to add, you would have definitely heard about it by now! We recalled how we had been sat perhaps at the very same table talking about buying houses and mortgage rates. Over the years the subjects have varied, through engagements and marriages, jobs, toddlers, children, school places, catchment areas. And now in a depressing yet totally expected progression we’re onto our ailments. Actually a couple of us are still talking about engagements and marriages, but they’ve held out long enough that they might get to do the ‘in sickness and in health’ part simultaneously! And I suppose if we all remain in London for the foreseeable future, it’s probably the place we’ll end up in talking about death too. Nobody said that last night but I wonder if we were thinking it? Or maybe it was just me, bags with wheels prompting morbid thoughts well before their time.

Arizona in Winter - Day 2

Day 2 – Santa Rita mountains, Pena Blanca and Paton's Hummingbird Sanctuary

The Canyons of the Santa Rita mountains regularly feature in the top birding destinations in the state, specifically Florida Canyon and then the more extensive and much busier Madera Canyon. I started the day at the former, which took around an hour to get to from Tucson, and the final stretch of which is along unpaved roads which are in some places quite corrugated. I was the first on site and it was cold! Luckily having started my journey in Oslo (don't ask!) I just happened to have a warm fleecy jacket, gloves, and my trusty camo hat – I had not been expecting to use these but was able to dig them out and thus not die of exposure. 

Canyon Towhee

The Elegant Trogon that the previous day had been seen at the parking area wasn't being seen today, so I headed up the trail towards the Black-capped Gnatcatcher area near the large green water tank, passing my first Green-tailed Towhee on the way. You walk up the left hand side of the research station, then cross the creek, and then head up the other side of the creek. There were few birds moving, a Cardinal perhaps the only thing I saw. Although the sun has risen, it is still behind the mountains that the canyon ascends into, so it remains cold for some while – indeed I could see snow at higher elevations. Back alongside the research station lower down I spent some time trying and failing to get a Cactus Wren to do the decent thing, and jammed a Canyon Towhee and Black-chinned Sparrow in the process. A few more birders had arrived now, almost all of them from out of State and also after the Gnatcatchers. Together we combed up and down, and finally a couple of guys found a pair quite close to the cars. It took a while to nail the ID by getting a good look at the underside of the tail, the rest of the bird looks very similar at this time of year to the common Black-tailed Gnatcatcher. 

Ooooh, rare

Cactus Wren struggling with plant identification

With still no sign of the Trogon I headed back down the road towards Madera, stopping at an obvious corral on the left which had Black-throated Sparrows and more Canyon Towhees, but also a thousand million flies, give or take. Proceeding to Madera Canyon, which is a mere 15 minutes drive away, I passed several car parks before stopping just before Santa Rita Lodge. This is a gift shop devoted mostly to nature, and there are a mass of bird feeders set up, as well as chairs and benches for elderly birders. Or sleep-deprived ones like me. The Gnatcatcher-finders had also arrived and again proved their worth (in contrast to 99% of all the other birders I met, who couldn't separate Pine Siskin from House Finch) by finding a Northern Pygmy Owl in a tree overlooking the feeders. This showed very well through the scope, and was roundly ignored by all the other birds for some reason. Maybe it was full? 

Anna's Hummingbird

The feeders themselves were heaving with birds, though the set-up was poor for photography. Loads of Dark-eyed Juncos fed around a brush pile, and I was pleased to find at least one Yellow-eyed Junco in with them. Mexican Jays came in and out, and every now and again an Arizona Woodpecker appeared – I eventually saw both sexes. The commonest birds were the Pine Siskins and Lesser Goldfinches, almost constantly on the feeders at the back. Broad-billed and Anna's Hummingbirds made regular visits, and Bridled Titmouse and White-breasted Nuthatch scampered around the trees. Other than the Owl, probably the best birds were a pair of over-wintering Hepatic Tanagers that made a brief appearance – stunning. Although I looked at other spots in the Canyon and in Florida Canyon, these feeders were the only place I saw Arizona Woodpecker. Be warned though, it is a constantly busy place, and the chit chat is inane.

Broad-billed Hummingbird

At this point I had a decision to make – continue birding the mountains, or try something different. Off to Pena Blanca lake I went, there to dip Rufous-capped Warbler. I did pick up my first Marsh Wrens, several Cinnamon Teal, and also a Neotropic Cormorant. Lots of Yellow-rumped Warblers around the lake edges too. My final stop of the day was Paton's yard in Patagonia. This was for a long time simply the garden of a pair of bird-lovers who were happy to share, but now that they have passed away it has been bought and preserved by a foundation who maintain the many feeders (not just sugar water feeders) just as the old couple did. There are seats and awnings, and it's a pleasant place to while away a couple of hours. No good for photography, though it might be better in the morning. Gradually as people drifted away more and more birds came out. These included a covey of Gambel's Quail, a pair of Inca Dove, a Lincoln's Sparrow, and two Towhee species. Practically no Hummingbirds though, again perhaps better in the morning. With dusk approaching I made tracks back north, passing a silhouetted Great-horned Owl looking like a massive cat on a post somewhere near Sonoita.

White-crowned Sparrow, memories of my first UK twitch

White-winged Dove

Gambell's Quail

When does it slow down?

Life continues to zip by at a thousand miles per hour. I am so busy I just can't stop. My world is ruled by to-do lists, lists that never shrink but only get longer despite constant crossing out. Every day on the way to work I think of things I have not done and wonder when I am going to do them. Rarely do I think of the things I have done, which of late would be a wonderously long and satisfying list. Would that I kept the multiple scraps of paper with which to remind myself of the time and effort spent, but no, it is all about what is next.

Today I spent an extremely unprofitable day at work during which I accomplished precisely nothing off my to-do list. In fact the list got longer, as gazing into space during conference calls I thought of other things I could put on it. I believe I may have even started a new post-it note. When I got home, I jumped in the car and drove to Bedford. There I delivered some wine glasses to a new home, and a few miles later picked up a coffee table. Not an ideal swap in terms of volume of stuff in vs volume of stuff out, but apparently we needed a coffee table. It's Danish, and has a lovely sheen to the top that I expect the children to make short work of on their way down to the wood beneath. This is all completely irrelevant as I'll never actually manage to place a coffee on it, as that would require sitting down and stopping doing stuff.

This got me to thinking. What exactly is the point? Why spend money (and time) on a coffee table that I am patently never going to get to appreciate? The same can be said of many of the things I do with the aim of having a nice pleasant place called home to relax in. The getting ready to relax part happens with alarming frequency, whereas the actual relaxation never does. If I sit down I feel guilty that I could be doing something, so I spring up and do it, all the while thinking of other things I need to do. What I really need is to stop and enjoy a short period of relaxation (whilst everything goes to hell in a handcart, obviously), just to appreciate for a microsecond some of the good times.

What I would like to know from the old timers out there (you know who you are!) is when does it stop? When do you run out of things to do? When do children not need ferrying places? When do they stop leaving stuff all over the floor? When does a house stop getting dirty? When do clothes not need washing any morey? When do plants not need watering? When do light-bulbs stop fizzling out? When does dust stop settling? Or rather, when does the dust settle? When can I stop worrying about the next whatever it is and enjoy the present? At what age does one learn this life skill exactly? If I'm not careful I'll fizzle out before the light bulb.

Ah yes, the light bulb. On February 29th of this year, an easy date to remember, I returned home from Arizona. Literally the minute I sat down and turned on a light, the bulb went. This sums up all of the above. Anyway, I got up again, and replaced it with one of those new-fangled long-life ones. The packet said it would go 8 years, this is nothing short of miraculous! What a boon for busy people! I would thus expect to not be changing the bulb in the downstairs toilet again until two leap years from now, on February 29th 2024. I will be 48. You read it here first.

So, answers to my questions on a post-it please. Just don't let me get hold of it.

Arizona in Winter - Day 1

Day 1 – Phoenix to Tuscon 

I arrived into Phoenix from Los Angeles at about 8.30am, and with this being a domestic arrivaI I was in my hire car half an hour later. I had booked this in advance, and being all signed-up with Avis meant I took the ten minute airport shuttle to the rental car centre, saw my name on a screen with the bay number, got straight in the car and drove off. A guy scanned a barcode on my windscreen on the way out but there was no paperwork whatsoever, no attempt to sell me upgraded insurance, damage waivers or anything like that. This is in stark contrast to Europe where getting hold of car seems to take ages every time, and where your prepaid costs seem only to be a fraction of the eventual bill sometimes. I mention it only as a way to spend more time birding, speaking of which... 

Ferruginous Hawk

South from Phoenix I drove through Arizona City and out onto the Santa Cruz Flats, which took about an hour. My main targets here were various Thrashers, as well as a group of Mountain Plover that had been wintering at a Sod Farm and been seen regularly. Naturally they were nowhere to be found, however an also-regular Sprague's Pipit was in some grassy fields just east of here, as were four Burrowing Owls. I spent the rest of the morning driving around the dirt roads ticking off various species as I came across them. Curve-billed Thrasher was pretty common, as was Loggerhead Shrike. Fields with short grass typically had American Pipits and Killdeer on them, and Horned Lark and Lark Buntings formed large flocks. Smaller groups of White-crowned Sparrow were common in roadside bushes, and Gila Woodpeckers were in the bare short trees. I found the occasional Cactus Wren in drier non-farmed habitat. The dominant raptor was Red-tailed Hawk, however further east towards the I10 I picked up three Crested Caracara near some flooded fields, a Ferruginous Hawk and a Black Hawk.

Male and female Vermilion Flycatchers

With new species being harder to come across, mid-afternoon I drove to Catalina State Park, principally in search of the wintering Rufous-backed Robin, but also for a change of habitat. This is rocky sauguaro hillsides, with a river bordered by various scrub and small trees, and was excellent. There was a $7 entrance fee, but this was worth it immediately with a point blank male Vermilion Flycatcher basically in the parking area. I found my first Ladder-backed Woodpecker here, as well as both Phainopepla and Phyrruloxia, all within fifty yards of the trailhead. Happily I also found the Robin, not in its favourite tree but feeding in the riverbed. A cautious approach got me really close as it came to the water for a drink - I would have been happy to merely get a glimpse of it! Who would thought that I would start twitching in America? Don't answer that...

At this point I became aware of a man watching me. A man with "Man of Faith" written on his T-shirt. A sense of overwhelming dread immediately overcame me. Sure enough, after a bit of polite banter came the expected question. 

"Do you believe in Jesus?"
"No."
"Well, he's real." (this said wistfully with a gentle shake of the head, as if he could hardly believe it himself)

You can probably guess how the conversation went, right up to the point where I flatly asked him to stop talking about Jesus and leave me alone, but it never ceases to amaze me how these types feel it is their (god-given, ha ha) duty to try and convert every living person they see. Had I been wearing a turban he would probably still have tried. Anyhow, the usual patter about how once he had not believed blah blah, but that it had taken a sign and so on. A sign which I totally forgot as soon as he mentioned it, so it can't have been that meaningful. On and on it went, past the point where I said I loathed all forms of organised religion, past the point where I mentioned scientific fact, until we got to the "go away" moment above. This did actually work, but not before a parting shot about how I'll be all alone when I die. Utterly fed up by now, naturally I said that would be preferable to being with a bunch of people like him, and this is what finally sent him on his way, surprised perhaps that in America somebody could be so rude, as generally Americans are amongst the nicest most pleasant people on earth. When they say "Have a nice day" or ask you how you are I believe that they genuinely mean it and are interested in the answer. In the same way that I genuinely don't believe in Jesus, difficult though that is to comprehend. Anyway, I went down as a hateful foreign aetheist but I did get to carry on birding unmolested for the rest of the afternoon.

Although I would have liked to have explored the area more, my itinerary waits for no man, and so I went to Sweetwater Preserve for the final hour of daylight. Some smart Cinnamon Teal were here, but the real stars of the show were the hundreds of Red-winged Blackbirds performing their pre-roost rituals. The males would fly in and perch on an exposed reed before displaying – opening the wings, flexing the shoulders to reveal the spectacular colour patches whilst calling loudly – a trilling kind of buzz. In lovely light this was an excellent way to end my first day.

Arizona in Winter - Logistics and Itinerary

Logistics

• A four day trip in late February (24th – 27th) to catch up with as many wintering species as possible. The landscape was also a very large attraction, and indeed for the most part it felt like I was birding in a Western. 
• I won't bother detailing quite how daft a route I took to get to there, but my final airport was Phoenix, which is an extremely efficient airport and has direct flights from London. Alternatively it is a short hop from either LA, Las Vegas, or any of the other major hubs in the south west.
• Car hire via Avis was a Ford Escape, billed in North America as a small SUV, but of course is pretty big. This is what I normally hire and it suits me perfectly. Once again I spent a lot of time on unpaved roads, especially in the Santa Rita Mountains and the Santa Cruz Flats. I would think a normal car would be fine if you were careful, but I always felt comfortable pulling off the road wherever I wanted. Once again Avis had removed the parcel shelf thus leaving all my gear exposed the whole trip. I did 1000 miles and fuel was a mere $50. Thanks America!
• I stayed in Tucson for all three nights, at the Comfort Suites hotel at Tuscon Mall. This was close to the freeway, and had lots of food options for the evening. In retrospect I should have stayed further south for my second night as I did 3 hours of unnecessary driving, but I had wanted to remain flexible in case of inclement weather. In the event the weather was perfect for the whole trip with not a cloud in sight.
• The USA is wifi’d to the max. Each evening I refreshed my phone with detailed maps of the areas I was visiting on the following day and off I went using just GPS. I didn't use any data abroad at all.
• Research was very detailed. As is becoming a bit of a habit, my main sources of information were the excellent trip reports on winter birding in Arizona published by VENT (Victor Emmanual Nature Tours) and uploaded onto the Cloudbirders website. They run regular tours in January, and the reports go back a number of years. As you know I am not a tour birder, especially at $2000, but it's very easy to use these and similar reports to get a feel for the locations they visit and the times of day they arrive. The guided tours typically pick up 150 species, whereas solo I only managed around 130, albeit on a slightly shorter trip. Still, those additional species would cost $100 each, and I'd swap being completely free and not in a minibus full of retirees for 20 species any day!
• Whereas these trip reports were used for general advanced planning, Ebird added the finer detail. By searching using the “hotspots” function you can see exactly what is being seen where. This led me to a great Thrasher site on my final day having been frustrated at my first locations, and also gave specific directions for some of the Mexican rarities that I chased.
• I used the Sibley guide for the west, but didn't on this trip really use the Audubon app which has the vocalisations as I found most species pretty easy to see and identify. Sparrows remain very challenging!

What I want to know is why this isn't blue?

Itinerary

Day 1: Early morning arrival into Phoenix, and I was on the road and birding soon after. My journey took me south into the Santa Cruz Flats, an arid area with irrigated agriculture. Birded extensively here and then mid-afternoon I drove east to Catalina State Park. Final stop of the day Sweetwater Wetlands Preserve.
Day 2: A bit of a bird feeder day. 5am start for the drive south on I19 to be at Florida Canyon for dawn. Mid-morning moved to Madera Canyon, spending most time at the Santa Rita Lodge feeders which were teeming with birds even in the heat of the day. Mid afternoon I went west to Pena Blanca lake, and then back east for a couple of hours at Paton's Hummingbird Sanctuary in Patagonia. This is excellent in the last hour of the day, as people leave and more and more birds arrive.
Day 3: An even earlier start, 4am, and a long drive south-east to the Sulphur Springs Valley, arriving at Whitewater Draw for dawn. Greeted by the spectacular sight of thousands of Sandhill Cranes departing from roost to feed in the surrounding fields. Birded until mid-morning here, then birded my way north up the valley to Kansas Settlement and finally Willcox. Some afternoon tourism at Tombstone, and then a final session at Fort Huachuca for Sinaloa Wren, a long-staying ABA mega. Note that this is a military base and that you need specific credentials to gain access.
Day 4: Morning birding at Picacho Peak State Park north of Tuscon and just off the I10, and then west onto the Santa Cruz Flats again for another abortive attempt at Mountain Plover. Left here late morning and took the I8 west through the Sonora Desert and the north to the famous Thrasher spot near Buckeye where I found all five expected species in a very hot flog around the sagebrush habitat. East back to Phoenix where I birded the Gilbert Riparian Preserve until dusk before meeting up with some of distant relations for dinner. Early to bed for the flight(s) home the next day. 

Map of the area visited, with the main birding sites highlighted, as well as some I did not get to

Nearly there in several senses

Spring is on the way, there are signs everywhere. There were a load of daffodils in a local park that we drove past on the way to hockey at the weekend, and better even than flowers, there is birdsong being belted out from almost everywhere. Song Thrushes seem to be the most prominent, but everything is starting up. This pleases me a great deal. I am fed up of winter and the short days. Short days confine me inside, give me no time outside of the complexities of life with which to play. And above all I like playing. I have far too many interests to have a job really, but somehow I fit that in.

Not right now however, I'm in full-on playing mode, and doing something that right now is close to if not at the top of the list of things that I enjoy. I'm travelling. Again. I had a nice few days off at home after our trip to Spain, during which I accomplished many useful things, some of them that had waited an exceedingly long time for a blank period to appear in my schedule. Things like sorting out the medicine cabinet and throwing out all the various liquids and ointments that were supposed to have been used many years ago. The record one we found was 2005 - it smelled OK but I'm not ill so didn't try it. The kids must have had a terrible 2009 though, there were litres of stuff from 2009 and 2010. So, this and a number of other good deeds done and I felt I was deserving of another short break, so I am actually typing this on the great circle route somewhere above Newfoundland on my way to Arizona for a few days of relaxed birding. Hah, who am I kidding? I don't do relaxed anything...

But that's not what I wanted to write about, that was just a preamble. What I really wanted to get off my chest was where I currently at with twitching. Yes, again. I don't make you click on here. So, last year I got two new birds for my UK list on New Year's Day. TWO ticks. That's more than some of the old timers get in a whole year. It's also more than I might get this year. I appreciate that this is probably my umpteenth post on falling out of love with twitching, but I think something has actually changed this time. The reason is that it's not just me, it's most of the gang that I started twitching with. A few years back if a rarity turned up, it was guaranteed that you could fill a car pretty quickly and be off. I'll always remember taking an afternoon off work, a posse of guys meeting at mine, and then driving to Wales for a Cream-coloured Courser. It was great fun, there and back, and the bird was an absolute belter. I think of this particular trip quite often as to me it sums up the peak of the period, the nadir if you will, of when a bunch of like-minded guys got caught up in the thrill of the chase, and had a lot of fun doing it.

Any old excuse eh?

Today if a rarity turned up and you asked that same carload if they wanted to go for it, I doubt if I'd get many takers. We barely even go twitching at the weekend any more, let alone in the middle of the working week. Ok so it's currently the quiet season at the moment and there really isn't much going on, but that Pacific Diver has been off Cornwall all winter. In days gone by I drove to Cornwall twice in a fortnight. This winter I've not even contemplated it – too far, insufficient enthusiasm. And anyway, I've seen a Pacific Diver in the Pacific. I'm wondering if we've all grown up?

I therefore doubt if I'll ever hit that magic 500, the new benchmark. It's quite possible that my UK list may permanently stall below 450. As I'm typing this at 40,000 feet with no internet connection I am not able to tell you what the actual number is. I'm pretty sure it's 440 something, and I'm also pretty sure that my last tick was that Blyth's Reed Warbler on the North Norfolk coast, but I'm not certain, and that indicates a certain cooling of the ardour. Two years ago I would have had no hesitation in knowing the exact number and probably the last fifty ticks. In order! That no longer seems particularly important. I'm not saying I'm done, but I reckon I mostly am, and certainly the distance I am willing to go has shrunk dramatically. Cornwall? Forget it. Scotland? Hahahahahah. I mean, who does that?

Oh, me. Multiple times. I've twitched Shetland! And the Outer Hebs! I honestly can't see that happening again, even though I really really enjoyed it. Anyhow, be that as it may, it's important to get a post like this in before the start of the next migration period. Why? Well obviously the whole point is to sow the seed of long-distance twitching in the mind of Mrs L, who does occasionally read this. As I said, Spring is on the way!

...in Spain

Can you spot Anakin?

February has not so been particularly birdy or bloggy, but when I looked at my calendar earlier in the year that was immediately obvious. Once again I have barely stood still, with a trip to Hamburg, an intense period at work, and more recently nearly a full week in Spain en famille. This latter is all I really have to talk at the moment, my blog has descended into "my life, by me" which is a bit sad. I still have the death of the high street tucked away, which I wrote in jest about a day before our local butcher went bust. There is now a very sad empty shop on in Wanstead with a "To Let" sign on it. 90 years they had been going, a proper multi-generational family business. No doubt it will soon be yet another fried chicken place, it's next to Costa and there's already a Starbucks a few doors down so unless Nero fancy their chances I think we can discount coffee. Tescos is already here having taken over the Woolies a few years ago. Is the demise of A G Dennis a coincidence? On the plus side the Allied Irish office has turned into a pub, and we now have a proper fishmonger, so it isn't all bad news. Still, I felt it was slightly insensitive to post it so soon after this loss, when all I am really doing is complaining about people going shopping and thus getting in the way of my Strava record attempts!

When I got home from Spain there was some really bad news though! I have written a fully-fledged blog piece on the stupidity of bird books as a follow-up to the one I did on how my decluttering was going. This was basically ready to go, penned on the London to Madrid flight, but when I got home I discovered that somebody had beaten me to it!  Now you will probably have noticed that a fair few of the blogs I read are written by similarly-aged men. I might [nearly] be one too, although I am confident I am the youngest of the lot! Anyhow, this writing collective being essentially one super-organism nearly always agrees with everything written by any of them, and one post can frequently spark a post in reply and so on. It would be going too far to say that they're all the same as they're not, each one has a distinct style and different humour, but you do sometimes feel like you're reading a set. Thus I cannot possibly now post something about how on earth I've ended with 50 unread bird books, and so that one has to remain in draft too until everyone has forgotten about Gavin's post. And Steve's.... 

Which leaves me with Extramadura, Seville and Madrid. All in Spain, but just like our writers all very different in their feel and the experiences they afford. This was a family holiday - binoculars came but were used on just two days out of six. Yes, only a third of the holiday contained birds! Despite this abject failure I still racked up a pretty respectable list in quiet moments, but as Mrs L might read this I'll need to stay silent on that for now. Black-winged Kite!! Shhhhhh! You will also have to excuse me for this being a rather photo-heavy post. Think of it as compensating for the lack of birdiness... I took my rejuvenated (read fixed at great expense) 5D3 with me, confirming it's a wonderful tool for my kind of travel.

Trujillo is a lovely place. If you come just a little later you can see the colony of Lesser Kestrels at the bullring. We were too early though, and had to wander round the town until the kids got bored.

Our first day was in Trujillo in a gale. We had a very leisurely local breakfast, and then wandered around the medieval town. The kids practiced their spanish in various shops, and Mrs L and I were happy just to see them getting to grips with a new place. After an excellent picnic lunch in the countryside where we devoured all the hard-communicated produce, we went for a walk on the plains. Or more accurately we were blown across the plains, the wind was quite ridiculous. With leaden skies mounting worryingly fast we fought our way back to the car just in time to escape a monumental rain storm. 

Shortly after I took this it landed on us, but we were safely in our car by then, The landscape is incredibly impressive, and there are birds everywhere.

The following day after another stupidly long breakfast we made our way to Monfrague National Park. Henry, who had been before with me, took on the mantle of expedition leader, and so the whole family saw Vultures, Blue Rock Thrushes, Azure-winged Magpies and a host of other lovely birds set in dramatic scenery. Another lengthy and satisfying al fresco lunch took place, after which we decided we would visit Portugal on the way to Seville. This we did, heading west at Barajoz and discovering that the Portugese economy is in far worse shape than Spain's. A bit sad really to wander around a run-down town, being served out-of-date fruit juice with mould in the bottles. To be fair it's probably not like this in Lisbon or Faro, but on the far edges of the country you do feel like you have hit a rather neglected area.

If I lived in Extramadura and my house didn't have a Stork on it I would have to move to one that did.

Even Mrs L with her bird phobia could not fail to be impressed with the Griffons at Salto del Gitano. Confession time, my large lens did come too, but was used very sparingly indeed.

The jangling of Serins is never far away. Another failure for this country. Bring on Global Warming I say.

Back into Spain we woke up the next day in Seville, and spent all of the next two days exploring this wonderful city, stacked to the gills with fantastic moorish architecture and open spaces, narrow streets with doorways leading to palatial courtyards. Everywhere was tiled, everywhere was delightful. Amazing food at all corners, we ate a lot of it but equally walked miles and miles. Oranges are everywhere, they appear to grow on trees. There is a whole municipal department devoted to picking them up and throwing them away, as they fall faster than they can be used. And they're delicious to boot, and absurdly cheap. We saw where Star Wars was filmed. More interestingly we saw where Lawrence of Arabia was filmed. I can't recommend it highly enough as a city break. If you do one thing, go to the Alcazar. Or the Casa de Pilatos. Or......I'll let the photos do the talking I think.

Behind wooden doorways along the narrow streets you often got a glimpse of the charms within. It is simply a different style of living.

This is where we were lucky enough to be staying. Horrible isn't it?

I certainly didn't like it at all as it provoked feelings of pure rage.

These are known as the mushrooms. Whoever designed it had been on them I think.

The sheer intricacy of the Alcazar was breathtaking. Hundreds of years old. The gardens were tranquility apart from the demented Mallard that thought it was a Peacock.

Don't go to southern Spain if you don't like tiles and glazed ceramics would be my advice

On our final day we went to Madrid. I cunningly booked a very long connection which allowed us about six hours in the city, and so by 9am we were eating breakfast overlooking the Royal Palace, and then were able to bimble at leisure for a few hours. We explored a few markets, and revisited a couple of Tapas places I had enjoyed solo on a previous trip, saw a tubby Spiderman and considered the purchase of a life-sized fibreglass Jesus, the most impressive of countless pieces of devotional crud that are ubiquitously available in Spain. We filled a suitcase with salami, cheese, oranges, ham, chocolate, vegetables and olive oil, and were home in Chateau L by supper time.

Ah, supper - I could not write about Spain without talking more about the food. Just to wander around the markets is enough to make you weep. We bought a kilo of prawns for about three quid. In England even finding a prawn is hard work. To walk past the rows of bodegas and not go into every single one of them is a super-human feat. The fruit looks and tastes amazing, the vegetables make what we get here seem a poor excuse. As mentioned above we brought back what we could, but it's no substitute for being able to simply nip out and grab an entire delicious meal of fresh ingredients for a fraction of the price that here simply gets you drab uniformity. Have a look at the next few photos and salivate....

Boquerones, frequently filleted and soaked in oil and vinegar for extra deliciousness.

A small selection of a dizzying amount of Tapas routinely available almost anywhere you went. The UK's reputation for a poor diet is very well founded.

There is nothing to say.

Unlike poor A G Dennis, Spain has thousands of thriving small niche food businesses

To complete lunch.....

This is actually a skip of oranges. Council workers were gathering these from the ground at Seville Cathedral and dumping them in bucketloads. What happens to them I have no idea. Once they have no taste I expect Tesco take them.

Not food, but in case you didn't believe me.

And no "trip report" would be complete without this to finish up with. A Tapas place in Madrid that only did shrimp in garlic. And white wine.