Tuesday, 8 June 2010
Monday, 7 June 2010
Heath Fritillaries. Done.
Everyone else has a blog post about Heath Fritillaries, and always a trend-setter, I thought I would too. First of all I started thinking that no, people would be bored by yet more butterflies, but then I thought that the blog had been a bit bird-heavy in the last few days, what with the excitement of Marmora's Warbler and so on, and that it was high time for a bit of a come down. It is June afterall. Butterflies it is then.
I've been meaning to go to Hockley Woods in Essex for a long time. Birds kept getting in the way, for which I apologise. I know you don't come here for that. Pudding and I went for a little walk with a picnic. Sausage sandwiches to be precise. We had a barbeque yesterday and don't feel that we have yet consumed enough protein. She sat and stuffed her face with this nutritious meal, and I got down to business with the Fritillaries. Win win.
Yet again, very obliging, really sat and posed rather nicely. You might think that one photo of a Heath Fritillary would be enough, and you might well be right. On the other hand, you don't know the password and I do. So, four photos then.
I've been meaning to go to Hockley Woods in Essex for a long time. Birds kept getting in the way, for which I apologise. I know you don't come here for that. Pudding and I went for a little walk with a picnic. Sausage sandwiches to be precise. We had a barbeque yesterday and don't feel that we have yet consumed enough protein. She sat and stuffed her face with this nutritious meal, and I got down to business with the Fritillaries. Win win.
Yet again, very obliging, really sat and posed rather nicely. You might think that one photo of a Heath Fritillary would be enough, and you might well be right. On the other hand, you don't know the password and I do. So, four photos then.
Not wishing to bore you to death with Butterflies, I thoughtfully pondered what else you might like. Birds? Nah, boring. Tales of domestic bliss? Interesting, but so last year. Then I found this beetle. Job's a good'un.
Cardinal Beetle
Saturday, 5 June 2010
7 Days, 1500 miles
I feel horrible, unclean. Whereas May was a damp squib as far as rarities go, June has thus far been sensational. The downside is that I appear to have spent most of the month in the car.
So, you know about the (sodding) Little Bittern, and you know about the mad dash up to Norfolk for the Trumpeter Finch. What you may not know is that my car has basically repeated both of those journeys in the last two days. Twitching = madness.
At a loose end on Friday, it was my firm intention to go and find Adonis Blue Butterflies on some hill in Surrey. As I drove around the M25, the pager kept telling me about a Marmora's Warbler showing well in Gwent. Showing Well. The plan had been to go with the boys at the weekend, five up, save money on fuel and have a great day out. But it was showing well. Still showing well. Aarrrgh!
I cracked, drove past the Butterflies, out to the M4, over the Severn Bridge again, and onwards to Gwent, arriving a mere matter of minutes later (about 180). A glorious day on the Brecon Beacons, and the bird did indeed show well, but I couldn't help but wonder why I had just burned all that money on fuel when I could have waited an extra day and still seen it. Turns out there was a good reason.
Today, Saturday, whilst the boys were on the M4, news of four Black-winged Stilts at Titchwell came out. Difficult to twitch from the back seat of a Subaru heading west on the M4, my cunning plan of going to Gwent yesterday had paid off, and I was able to spend another happy four hours driving up and down the same road to Norfolk that I driven up and down earlier in the week. Genius. But Black-winged Stilt was one of my top targets, and having been away for every convenient bird over the last few years, including the one at Rainham in April, I was not going to miss these ones.
I didn't miss them, and in fact four had turned into five by the time I got there. Yet another meaningless UK tick, splendid. I took Muffin, and bar missing a Gull-billed Tern at Titchwell by about half an hour, we had a great day. I was a proud dad today. I let him have the scope, and he found his own Marsh Harrier in a tree, and then two Little Gulls on the scrape. Called them totally confidently, no help required. A standard Titchwell visitor sidled up to me and asked where the Little Gull was, he couldn't bring himself to ask a six year old for help. I wish now that I'd said I didn't know what they looked like either and to ask my son; an opportunity missed.
Back home now after 1500 miles, almost half of them solo. Ouch. Poorer in some ways, but richer in others....
So, you know about the (sodding) Little Bittern, and you know about the mad dash up to Norfolk for the Trumpeter Finch. What you may not know is that my car has basically repeated both of those journeys in the last two days. Twitching = madness.
At a loose end on Friday, it was my firm intention to go and find Adonis Blue Butterflies on some hill in Surrey. As I drove around the M25, the pager kept telling me about a Marmora's Warbler showing well in Gwent. Showing Well. The plan had been to go with the boys at the weekend, five up, save money on fuel and have a great day out. But it was showing well. Still showing well. Aarrrgh!
I cracked, drove past the Butterflies, out to the M4, over the Severn Bridge again, and onwards to Gwent, arriving a mere matter of minutes later (about 180). A glorious day on the Brecon Beacons, and the bird did indeed show well, but I couldn't help but wonder why I had just burned all that money on fuel when I could have waited an extra day and still seen it. Turns out there was a good reason.
Today, Saturday, whilst the boys were on the M4, news of four Black-winged Stilts at Titchwell came out. Difficult to twitch from the back seat of a Subaru heading west on the M4, my cunning plan of going to Gwent yesterday had paid off, and I was able to spend another happy four hours driving up and down the same road to Norfolk that I driven up and down earlier in the week. Genius. But Black-winged Stilt was one of my top targets, and having been away for every convenient bird over the last few years, including the one at Rainham in April, I was not going to miss these ones.
I didn't miss them, and in fact four had turned into five by the time I got there. Yet another meaningless UK tick, splendid. I took Muffin, and bar missing a Gull-billed Tern at Titchwell by about half an hour, we had a great day. I was a proud dad today. I let him have the scope, and he found his own Marsh Harrier in a tree, and then two Little Gulls on the scrape. Called them totally confidently, no help required. A standard Titchwell visitor sidled up to me and asked where the Little Gull was, he couldn't bring himself to ask a six year old for help. I wish now that I'd said I didn't know what they looked like either and to ask my son; an opportunity missed.
Back home now after 1500 miles, almost half of them solo. Ouch. Poorer in some ways, but richer in others....
This was in the garden the other day. Tomorrow, I'll be there too. Unless a Roller turns up.Friday, 4 June 2010
Moth Hating
My moth trap arrived yesterday morning. I finally cracked and bought a budget one with proper electrics after my home-made trap went a few nights with diddly squat, and at 300W, expensive diddly-squat. I quickly put it together and then spent the rest of the day waiting for it to get dark, which took AGES.
Up at five this morning, I tripped excitedly down the stairs and out into the garden, expecting to be awash with the majority of Wanstead's moth population. Three moths. Not three thousand, not even three hundred. Just three. THREE?!!! Pitiful, and very disappointing indeed. The description and accompanying pictures on the website I bought it from showed a catch-box almost overflowing with lovely pink Elephant Hawkmoths, and I get three beige ones. It's like fast food. Famished, you are enticed in by the photo in the window of a two-foot tall burger, crisp lettuce leaves still with dew on. You pay your money, getting hungrier by the second, oh the anticpation, and finally are passed a plastic bun containing a wafer-thin burger with a smear of ketchup, and a limp blob of decomposing green stuff poking feebly out of the side masquarading as the lettuce. Rubbish.
I'm sitting here thinking what might have gone wrong. Was it too cold last night? Perhaps I didn't place the egg boxes correctly? Was the trap even in the right place? Was it too obscured by foliage? Am I just crap?
The three moths? Well, one flew off before I could even photograph it, no change there but remember this is a full 33% of my catch. One I still can't identify, again, no change there, and the final one I have nailed as a Common Swift, which is great, but is going to play havoc with my photographic filing system.
We shall what tomorrow brings. In the meantime, have some garden wildlife that isn't an unidentified beige moth.
Up at five this morning, I tripped excitedly down the stairs and out into the garden, expecting to be awash with the majority of Wanstead's moth population. Three moths. Not three thousand, not even three hundred. Just three. THREE?!!! Pitiful, and very disappointing indeed. The description and accompanying pictures on the website I bought it from showed a catch-box almost overflowing with lovely pink Elephant Hawkmoths, and I get three beige ones. It's like fast food. Famished, you are enticed in by the photo in the window of a two-foot tall burger, crisp lettuce leaves still with dew on. You pay your money, getting hungrier by the second, oh the anticpation, and finally are passed a plastic bun containing a wafer-thin burger with a smear of ketchup, and a limp blob of decomposing green stuff poking feebly out of the side masquarading as the lettuce. Rubbish.
I'm sitting here thinking what might have gone wrong. Was it too cold last night? Perhaps I didn't place the egg boxes correctly? Was the trap even in the right place? Was it too obscured by foliage? Am I just crap?
The three moths? Well, one flew off before I could even photograph it, no change there but remember this is a full 33% of my catch. One I still can't identify, again, no change there, and the final one I have nailed as a Common Swift, which is great, but is going to play havoc with my photographic filing system.
We shall what tomorrow brings. In the meantime, have some garden wildlife that isn't an unidentified beige moth.
Thursday, 3 June 2010
Wednesday, 2 June 2010
Oooh, Aaah
A quick dash after work (ahem) for the male Trumpeter Finch was a stunning success yesterday evening. I even took the Dipmonkey and still scored. I'd arrranged with Shaun to hold off during the day and go up together, and then the Monkey decided he would like to come too, despite not needing the bird. Fair enough though, the more the cheaper, er I mean merrier. And to make up the team, Muffin came too, keen to add to his list of rarities.
After waiting for Shaun to make a cup of tea, have a shower and clean his van, we were off! I was slightly worried that by arriving at 7pm the bird might have gone to roost, but I needn't have worried, and there were reassuring pager messages all the way up.
It is fair to say that the Cley Square was having a rather good evening. In addition to the Trumpeter Finch on the shingle at the end of the East Bank, there was a Thrush Nightingale at Walsey Hills, which is basically at the opposite end of the East Bank. Less than a mile east, a Marsh Warbler was singing at Gramborough Hill, and less than half a mile west, an adult male Red-backed Shrike was at Cley Coastguards. Wanstead eat your heart out.
We were obliged to go and see the Trumpeter Finch first, it being the "biggie", and after a brief slog over the shingle we were able to spend some quality time with it. It first showed very well on the fence below the ridge, and then fed right in front of us. For a bird that is pink, its ability to disappear against the shingle is amazing.
The lure of the Red-backed Shrike eventually proved too much, and we had to tear ourselves away. We left Shaun to try for the Thrush Nightingale which he still needs (the rest of us having seen one years ago), and drove the short distance to Cley Coastguards. Wow. Shrikes, you just can't beat them, and there is not much to trump an adult male Red-backed. We drank it in. Much as a Trumpeter Finch is very very rare, and pink, both qualities that appeal to me, the Shrike immediately pushed it off the top spot.
Another tick for Muffin, poor kid. Shaun was having no luck with the Thrush Nightingale, so we went and picked him up and returned to the Shrike so he could enjoy it too. Then we had a choice between standing around hoping the Thrush Nightingale would show (or sing), or standing around hoping that the Marsh Warbler would show (or sing). In the event we did neither, and went and got Fish and Chips. I don't think we missed much, certainly the Thrush Nightingale was neither seen nor heard again, although I think the Warbler did show briefly. Nevermind. Of the four birds on offer, I saw my first two choices. And in fact if I'd have dipped the Finch and just seen the Shrike, I'd have been perfectly happy.
Muffin had a great time - he got to be one of the boys. He's a proper birder, not like the three of us. Whilst we were running down the East Bank, he was stopping and looking at the resident birds. Avocets, Redshanks in flight, BT Godwits, Eygptian Geese. For a six year old, his identification skills are rather good. Satisfyingly good I might add.
After waiting for Shaun to make a cup of tea, have a shower and clean his van, we were off! I was slightly worried that by arriving at 7pm the bird might have gone to roost, but I needn't have worried, and there were reassuring pager messages all the way up.
It is fair to say that the Cley Square was having a rather good evening. In addition to the Trumpeter Finch on the shingle at the end of the East Bank, there was a Thrush Nightingale at Walsey Hills, which is basically at the opposite end of the East Bank. Less than a mile east, a Marsh Warbler was singing at Gramborough Hill, and less than half a mile west, an adult male Red-backed Shrike was at Cley Coastguards. Wanstead eat your heart out.
We were obliged to go and see the Trumpeter Finch first, it being the "biggie", and after a brief slog over the shingle we were able to spend some quality time with it. It first showed very well on the fence below the ridge, and then fed right in front of us. For a bird that is pink, its ability to disappear against the shingle is amazing.
The lure of the Red-backed Shrike eventually proved too much, and we had to tear ourselves away. We left Shaun to try for the Thrush Nightingale which he still needs (the rest of us having seen one years ago), and drove the short distance to Cley Coastguards. Wow. Shrikes, you just can't beat them, and there is not much to trump an adult male Red-backed. We drank it in. Much as a Trumpeter Finch is very very rare, and pink, both qualities that appeal to me, the Shrike immediately pushed it off the top spot.
Another tick for Muffin, poor kid. Shaun was having no luck with the Thrush Nightingale, so we went and picked him up and returned to the Shrike so he could enjoy it too. Then we had a choice between standing around hoping the Thrush Nightingale would show (or sing), or standing around hoping that the Marsh Warbler would show (or sing). In the event we did neither, and went and got Fish and Chips. I don't think we missed much, certainly the Thrush Nightingale was neither seen nor heard again, although I think the Warbler did show briefly. Nevermind. Of the four birds on offer, I saw my first two choices. And in fact if I'd have dipped the Finch and just seen the Shrike, I'd have been perfectly happy.
Muffin had a great time - he got to be one of the boys. He's a proper birder, not like the three of us. Whilst we were running down the East Bank, he was stopping and looking at the resident birds. Avocets, Redshanks in flight, BT Godwits, Eygptian Geese. For a six year old, his identification skills are rather good. Satisfyingly good I might add.
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