Spotted Crake

A nice easy post today, a simple photo of a Spotted Crake. Funny that nobody calls them Spotcrake in the same way that Spotfly is a well known contraction. Maybe they do? I don't however, as with this species familiarity has yet to breed contempt. This bird was at the Ingrebourne Valley at the weekend, and was the second I have seen there. It is probably still there now actually, but I only have weekends in which to prove this beyond reasonable doubt, unlike every other person on the planet who can seemingly rock up on more or less any day they choose. This caused at least one well-known birder to whom this applies to publicly express envy of the happy five days a week I am lucky enough not be able to spend birding. His point was? No, I don't know either. 

Modern life is rubbish

I tweet, I text, I whatsapp (if that is a word?). I am the very definition of modern. And let me tell you, modern has a lot to answer for. Right now I am in despair at the minute by minute aspect of modern life, specifically the lack of time that most people seem prepared to devote to anything. I use social media as an example, but you could as easily apply it to the news, where you work, how you shop, and even to how you vote. People want headlines and soundbites, almost everything today must be distilled into as few words as possible, and ideally have a conclusion pre-formed so that nobody has to do any thinking for themselves. The most important issues of our times are compressed into tiny snippets, lacking almost entirely in decent information. And unless what is left takes less than ten seconds the vast majority of people simply lose interest. We are vacuous in the extreme. It is the same at work, bullet points only please. If somebody has to think about something, that’s it – they move on and you have lost them. As a society we have become conditioned to brevity and to dumbing down – the two go hand in hand. Is it any wonder things like Brexit happen?

Attempting to write a blog has brought this home to me in quite a simple way, and I thought I’d jot a few things down in order to make the point. Writing – actual writing – is hard. Contrary to what you may think, each and every paragraph requires thought and consideration, there is no effortless flow here, no stream of consciousness that can lay down 1000 words in a matter of minutes. For the most part if I have an idea of what I want to say, I find myself composing things in my head as I walk around – frequently this is on the commute when I retreat into my inner shell and strap on my armour. My physical form is being crushed by humanity (or maybe not given I am on the Central Line), my literary form is buzzing, thinking a thousand thoughts, forming sentences and pithy one-liners. When I reach a keyboard out it all comes, a jumble of those musings. Then of course it has to be sorted, shaped, reordered. Sometimes re’written’ entirely. And of course sometimes nothing comes out at all, a day at work has frazzled me and I am left incapable of stringing even a few words together. I resort to gin and instead potter around the greenhouse. Occasionally this goes on for a few weeks and I am entirely silent. The point I am trying to make is that writing takes time. It might come fairly naturally to me, but that does not mean it is quick. Over the years, over eight and a half now, I have spent countless hours bashing out blog posts - around 1500 of them. That’s a big commitment, and it’s increased by the time taken to process and upload photos, to tinker with links, lists, maps, and all the other things that form a part of it.

As well as this avenue for the written word I also have a couple of Twitter accounts, and several times a day I might offer up some small nugget on one of them. Unlike the blog, almost no thought goes into this at all – with 140 characters to play with you could argue that you need to work even harder to craft a message, but actually it’s a far less intensive medium that I suspect takes most people almost no brain power. I offer up President Trump by way of example. So, a brief sentence that requires practically no effort to produce and can be done in seconds, versus several paragraphs of carefully honed prose that might have been, on and off, the product of an entire day. Of these, which do you think is likely to generate the most comment, the most interaction, the most introspection and response?

Exactly. It is the single sentence and this is the problem. And it is by such a wide margin that the blog does not even figure. Most posts I write are eventually clicked on (though not necessarily read I surmise!) a few hundred times. By contrast a two second tweet will likely get a couple of replies, a few 'likes', possibly a retweet. Now you could argue that none of this matters and you are right, it doesn’t. But the inverse proportionality of effort I actually find quite irritating, and it leads me back to the beginning of this post and the society we have become. When a blog, article, editorial or whatever it is is too long, or contains too much within it to allow reflection to be sufficiently brief, it has no future. Instead it takes almost no effort to 'like' or 'favourite' a tweet, literally none – it is the perfect button really. Tap, scroll on. Next! Actually composing a reply is also the work of mere seconds. A few squiggles on the phone, and blur of fingers, and it’s done. Two seconds to read it, a few seconds to consider it, perhaps ten seconds to reply back - including correcting the predictive text. The whole thing is done in almost the blink of an eye and we have moved on to something else. We are being trained to have the attention span of gnats – Breaking News! -  and most of are coming up that curve very well indeed! I despair. When is the last time anyone read a book?

So when it comes to writing a blog post I am beginning to question why it is that I bother? The reality must be that nobody gets beyond the first two sentences before giving up as it is too much like hard work. That is the almost inescapable conclusion I am sadly coming to. Or, as many of my good friends have pointed out, it’s just really really boring! I’m backing myself on this one though. Yeah you might have to think a bit, not a lot but a bit, but actually as a medium this is far better than a tweet. Better than Facebook, Whatsapp or Instagram or any of the thousands of ways people can now rapidly and blithely communicate. Actual writing is far more able to convey meaning, emotion and fact. That it and the printed press in general is gradually withering and dying is a very great shame, or at least I think so. 

I'm off to the greenhouse. Via gin and tonic. 

Top patch moments

Between lulls in Redstart activity last weekend my fellow patch-workers and I got to talking about our best moments on the patch. What was interesting was the almost total agreement between us of which particular days those were, so much do they stand out from the norm. The norm of course is what we were doing, standing around chatting as there was nothing much else to do – most days on the patch stand out for being really really boring and containing very little bird interest. Very very occasionally there is some major excitement which anywhere on the coast would be classified as “Much about?” “Nah mate, dead”, but round here you take what you can get. So here are my picks in chronological order.

Finding my first Ring Ouzel
I still remember this as if it were yesterday. After years of trying to twitch other people’s Ring Ouzels, mainly dipping, and finally driving to Hertfordshire for my first, I got up one October morning and said to Mrs L that I was going out to find a Ring Ouzel. Remarkably that is exactly what I did, I rounded a corner near Esso Copse and came face to face with a fantastic male Ouzel. I still can’t quite believe it. Unfortunately I was not writing a blog in 2008 so the world remained ignorant, but I repeated the feat the following spring. If you fancy seeing how amateur (even more amateur) my blog was back then, you can check it out here.

Lapwings, Jack Snipe and Golden Plover

This might still take the prize as the best patch day ever – bitterly cold, snow in the air and on the ground, and over the course of that February in 2012 day I saw close to 400 Lapwings.  Given that seeing even one Lapwing in any given year can be rather a challenge, this was and remains nothing short of sensational. They came in wave after wave, each floppy flock being greeted with increasing enthusiasm. It was one of those days where we could do no wrong. Whilst checking out a Med Gull on Alex, itself a rare bird, a Jack Snipe dropped onto the ice which was a tick for everyone. Whilst we drank in the Snipe movement overhead caught my attention and a group of six Golden Plover flew over us, another patch tick. I believe my shout was heard on the Essex coast. You can read about it here.

A large fall of Wheatears
Spring 2013 was notable for a really delayed passage. Migrating birds were held back on the continent by poor weather and for weeks we got practically nothing. And then the floodgates opened and we were deluged. One particular morning I went out on the Flats to discover that it had started, and standing at the VizMig point and turning 360 degrees I could see over 20 Wheatears. Given my affinity for this species, the experience was magic. As before, the original is here.

Grasshopper Warbler in the morning, Red-legged Partridge in the evening
Birding plans changed rapidly one spring morning when Tim called to say that he had a Gropper in the Old Sewage Works whilst surveying reptiles. At this time of the year all the action is typically on the Flats, and it is a good twenty minute walk. As one we hoofed it over there, with Marco beating us all as he had a bike. Whilst watching this great new addition to the patch list we then got news of a visiting birder (Barry, one third of the trio that also contains Harry and Larry/Stuart) had seen a Red-legged Partridge on the Flats where we had all just been! With work looming I charged back there but couldn’t refind it before I had to leave. Naturally those patch workers lucky enough not to be saddled with employment enjoyed it at their leisure not long after whilst I had to sweat it out in Canary Wharf. I fully expected it to be eaten by a dog during the day, but nonetheless left work early hoping I might be lucky. I was lucky! I found it pottering around under a set of goalposts on one of the playing fields, and had enough time to dash home, grab a camera and get back to it before the sun set. A memorable day, which can be relived here.

Thousands of Hirundines
All of us old and new remembered this day, being as it was relatively recent and entirely amazing - September 21st 2015. Most of us had never seen anything like it anywhere, let alone on home turf. A trickle of hirundines became a torrent. I still can’t think of an adequate way to convey it really, you just had to be there. Thousands up thousands of birds passing from knee height to hundreds of metres up. Almost as quickly as it started it stopped again, but that hour or so will – and I honestly mean this – be with me for the rest of my life. That’s the power of birding. Here’s how I wrote about it at the time.

Yellow-browed Warbler, 3 Ring Ouzels, flock of White-fronted Geese
This was only last year but still creeps into the annals of Wanstead Birding as being worthy of inclusion. The whole event lasted a matter of minutes, but was amongst the most exciting moments on the patch that I have ever experienced. In a nutshell we were all celebrating a Yellow-browed Warbler, the first one that had been multi-observed, when three Ring Ouzels came up out of Motorcycle Wood and circled the western Flats. As this was happening a skein of Geese came in from the west making a slightly unfamiliar honking. It took a while for us to register the difference, but these were no regular Geese, this was a genuine flock of autumn White-fronts, long distance migrants from a long way north. A number of us had had two full-fat patch ticks in as many minutes, and we all agreed that as far as mornings go this was right up there. Again, you had to be there, but I hope that my original post goes some way to setting the scene.

The inevitable

Wouldn't it be nice to wander round unencumbered by a camera I said to myself this morning. Wouldn't it be lovely to have no excess weight to lug around. Just me and my bins, back to basics. I rarely get decent opportunities on the Flats anyway, too busy. I'll just leave the whole lot at home, wonderful. I don't know if any of you readers who are also keen on photography feel the same way, but whilst I feel rather 'naked' without my camera I also feel liberated - it comes with being able to be a birder as well, a birder first probably.

And it was rather nice early on as I trotted around my usual circuit. Quiet and uneventful, but extremely pleasant, as the sun rose a low mist formed across the area. I met Tony by Alex, nothing doing, and together we headed back to the VizMig point. A pair of Little Owls caught his attention in one of the copses, the first time I've set eyes on them this year having had a "heard only" experience during the summer. They flew up from the ground and into the canopy, not to be seen again, but we think we now know where the nest hole might be.

Over to the usual area by the brooms for a bit of a chat and Bob spots a distant Chaffinch. In fact the Hawthorn it is in is alive, three Chiffchaff, various Tits and also a spanking male Chaffinch Common Redstart! You can never get that close to Redstarts here, and there is always a lot of foliage etc, I was perfectly happy not to have a camera. Meanwhile Bob and Tony advance on the tree. And get closer. And closer. And closer. The Redstart pops up on a bare branch right in front of them, sits stock still and puffs out its chest. A torrent of shutter abuse follows, whereupon they gather around Tony's camera and high-five each other. Then Bob zooms up his and they exchange hugs and punch the air. They are amongst the best Redstart photos I think I have ever seen! Reluctantly, and with my tail firmly between my legs, I head home to dig out my lens. Why does this always happen?

It was still there when I got back about a quarter of an hour later, and meanwhile James had been having his fill. I must say it was a friendly little thing, but that soft morning light had rather disappeared. My best efforts are below, and whilst I'm pleased, I am nonetheless left ruing my early morning decision to travel light as the opportunity earlier on was simply golden. Nevermind, it was a little beauty and I don't think I've seen one better, here or anywhere else, and I hadn't expected to see one again this year so rather a treat. Other bird highlights were 50 or so Swallow, a couple of three species of Wagtail, and some good Meadow Pipit action.

This final image is actually a composite of two images with some funky leaf work, inspired by one of my fellow patch-workers!

Velociraptor trousers

It will perhaps surprise you to know that at work I am known as a fashionista. Whether this is because I once went to Milan, or because I frequently have something to say about what my team (all much younger than me) are wearing I’m not sure. More likely is that this is an inside joke based on my own low standards of sartorial elegance. To put this into context, my favourite shirt dates from 1999 and I still wear it. It was once white but is now more of a grey colour, and it is fair to say that they don’t make shirts like this anymore. I love it like and old friend, and equate its longevity with unrivalled quality – they made things properly in the last century. I also still wear some shoes that I bought in 1997, although there is a slight element of Trigger’s Broom about those. Anyway, all I am trying to say is that when it comes to fashion I am the last person that should be allowed any say whatsoever in what constitutes as being well dressed.

So naturally this is exactly what I am going to do. I have one major objection to the 2017 ‘look’, and this is the phenomenon of Velociraptor Trousers that seems to be sweeping the nation. You probably know what I am talking about – this is where somebody crafts a perfectly serviceable pair of trousers or leggings or whatever, and then throws them into a cage of raging dinosaurs which then rip them to shreds. The dinosaurs are then distracted allowing the what is left of the trousers to be retrieved, at which point they are then shipped to shops up and down the land where they sell like hot cakes. Seen someone wearing some recently? I bet you probably have as they're everywhere. I simply cannot understand what would motivate somebody to wear trousers that are basically a few threads away from falling to bits. What is even more daft is that they have been deliberately ruined and the whole scenario was completely avoidable. Make the trousers, sell them to somebody. Skip the dinosaurs.

Some of the examples I have seen are probably more slash than actual material. Now I draw the line at wandering round taking photos of peoples’ legs, so I’ve stolen all of these ones from the internet. In the cold light of day tell me that this isn’t ridiculous? One slip or scrape and you’ll have nothing left! I mean some of my trousers do eventually end up looking a bit like this, but that’s only after a decade or so of exemplary service and it is always a sad day when they finally give up the ghost. To deliberately waste ten years of good wearing is nothing more than vandalism. Just say no!

WARNING - BIRD CONTENT!

Sorry about this, but as this is obviously a birding blog it would be remiss of me not to stay on message. On Wanstead Flats last weekend I saw, amongst other things, a Tree Pipit, a Yellow Wagtail, and three Whinchats. Not sure what else the autumn has to give at this point other than Ring Ouzel, but I live in hope.

Foxy moves

It felt good on the patch this morning, with three Whinchats, a Tree Pipit, several Yellow Wagtails, a Swallow and a Garden Warbler. Plenty of Warbler activity in the bushes with double figures of Blackcap too, but the big one continues to elude us all. Inland patch working is hard, even in September. Non-avian highlights included a bacon roll that showed very briefly, and this pristine Fox which spent a fair amount of time playing with what I think was a dead vole. Nice to see one that doesn't resemble the living dead.

Eclipse

I was lucky enough to be in America for the Solar Eclipse last month. We were on a family holiday in California and on the day in question were in Yosemite. I had planned ahead and bought five pairs of solar viewing glasses. Amusingly/irritatingly depending on your point of view, one of my daughters dropped hers into the river about 3 minutes before the eclipse was due to start, the best laid plans and all that, so I made do with my 10x ND filter combined with a  circular polarising filter and sunglasses! This provided just about sufficient protection to allow decent views, and also when stuck on a lens, a few photos. Yosemite wasn’t quite far enough north, the best nearby views would have been up in Oregon, but nonetheless we enjoyed about 75% coverage. It didn’t get dark per se, just rather dull for about an hour – even 25% of the sun is enough to provide a lot of light! Our views were somewhat stymied by clouds for a large part of the event – that day in Yosemite and the previous day in San Francisco were the only days we even saw a cloud, so not the best timing, but at least we were there and gave ourselves a chance. And to see it whilst stood underneath the Half Dome is something we’ll all remember for a long time!