A sad, sad day

A victory for sensible, a triumph for rational, but nonetheless a sad, sad day. The good ship ECO 1 has departed for shores unknown (well, Surrey actually). Back in about 2006 I convinced myself I wanted a Landrover. Needed a Landrover. Not just any Landrover, it had to be a Defender, and it had to be a long wheelbase. I spent a fair old while looking for the perfect car, and finally took the plunge. Broadly speaking, it then sat outside my house for about six years. It became a local landmark, taxis and delivery men would know where to stop, tradesmen where to knock. In a street with its fair share of parking problems, it was an immovable object, a guardian of my bit of road.

In the six years that I had it, I did just over 16,000 miles. A few Scottish trips, a few times to Norfolk and Kent, over to France once, but mostly just pootling around London. The cost per mile was probably just under a pound all told. Not very good. This year the battery gave out in about March, and I'd not driven it since. With the MOT and tax coming up, I decided to bite the bullet and sell up. I'm very sad, but at twenty years old and approximately fifty percent rust, the time had come. The depreciation was very large indeed, eye-watering in fact, but faced with the choice of more servicing bills, more tax, more insurance and fuel economy that would make a Saturn rocket look efficient, I decided to take the hit. A truck came today at around lunchtime, winched it up, and that was that.

Here's the Landy in happier times, on Mull, with Mrs L cooking a nice healthy breakfast in the back.

There are happy memories of course. I slept overnight in it many a time whilst birding. At a Black Grouse lek in the Highlands, for a Thrush Nightingale in Suffolk. I stood on the roof of it in order to scope a Purple Heron at Crossness until security turned up. My favourite times were of it as a family car, the five of us squeezed into its narrow seats, bikes on the top, a ton of crap in the back, and some decent countryside ahead. It was never really a London car, even though that's where it spent most time, but it was still a lot of fun. Arm out the window, diesel roaring, other drivers deciding that yes, they would give way just this once. Aircon, you're kidding right? Anyhow, an interesting if wasteful period of my life has ended, and whilst not a broken man, I am hurting. I briefly thought about getting another one, a newer one, a few months ago, but saw sense and realised that, mostly, the same shortcomings of my 1992 model were present even in current cars. I've never been much of a car person, never had fast car urges, a desire to go and plonk down silly money for something really flash. My Landy was a proper vehicle, one that showed I didn't care about that kind of thing, that I didn't bow to peer pressure. And that I wasn't going to race you off the lights, and not just because I couldn't.

So what to get next? Something that is actually capable of moving for starters, novel though that sensation would be. I'm thinking small, and I'm thinking highly economical. Dull, basically. Boring. All it needs is a boot just large enough for a tripod, scope and camera, and that'll do me I reckon. Oh, and it has to be a Ford.....

And it rained and it rained and it rained

And Lo God didst decide that the staff of Barclays (who are based in London) did needst to be punished, and so He sendethst so much rain to wash the filth off these grey streets as has not been seen in all of Christendom. But the greedy bastard derivative traders had buggered off to their villas in the Alpes Maritimes for the weekend and were thus spared. And so it came to pass instead that a birder's garden in Wanstead turned into a lake, and the Wimbledon men's final was played with the roof on.

In other news, and yet another indication of this country going to Hell in a handcart, yesterday I led a guided bird-watching walk in Tower Hamlets. A frankly massive crowd of five people turned up, and we saw many exciting things such as Coots and Mallards. Later on I helped at the school's summer fete, which managed to sneak in slightly before God's apocalyptic wrath was laid bare upon us, and then twitched a Spoonbill at Rainham from a layby on the A13 - looking just over the heap of scrap cars, and just under the Eurostar overpass, a special setting.

Today I was woken up by rain hammering on the windows, and having consulted God's Apoloyptic Radar, have concluded that today is looking very much like an indoor day. If the Spoonbill and Little Egrets get flooded off Rainham, they would be quite happy on the scrape which has just developed in the garden.

Well, June is over, I can get my bins out again

So, what did I see on the patch in June? A quick look at my records....and just sneaking in on the 1st of June is a Tawny Owl. Practically May really, not sure I should really count it. So nothing new, just a gradual diminishment of activity. Common Terns continued to visit Heronry, the Great Crested Grebe chicks are growing up, and I've seen Hobby a couple of times from the garden, but basically it has been typically dead and unworthwhile.

Instead, I have atypically been visiting other parts of the country in search of birding fixes, and belying the month of the year, it has been exceptionally good. First up was a Marsh Warbler at Rainham, a London and Essex tick - it doesn't come much better than that. I never saw it, but  the song is the best bit anyway, and there was plenty of that. June also delivered the Little Bittern at Stocker's Lake, a mere 45 minutes away, which was rather special, but the most amazing part was having a two tick weekend with the Little Swift on the Wirral, and the very next day an adult PGP in Norfolk. Somewhat of a stressful and car-heavy weekend without a doubt, but that's all forgotten now. Last year I got no ticks whatsoever in June, so 2012 has punched well above its weight. Does it trump the Oriental Pratincole at Dungness in 2010? Probably.

Now July, my thoughts are beginning to turn to the sea. The first Wilson's Petrels have been reported from Scilly, though they involve getting on boats. I've still not seen one, but I'm going to give it one last try from land before succumbing to being bounced around on the open ocean. Me and boats don't agree, especially small ones. I have though conquered my fear of the Scillonian III, two almost exemplary twitches last year convinced me I could do it. If another long-stayer appears, I'd almost certainly go over again. By helicopter. My primary interest is sea-watching though, far more excitement to be gained there than by crashing through Lower Moors looking for stripy lost waifs. I wish I lived by the sea, the six hour drive to Cornwall, with the prospect of dense fog that you didn't and couldn't know about when you left, is somewhat fraught. I've never actually dipped the sea, though came very close in August 2009 when the fog closed in by lunchtime. Happily the view out to the Runnelstone buoy was still clear at around half eleven; you all know what happened next!

Internet Tomfoolery

In the absence of birds, I had a lot of fun this weekend mucking about with internet. I am a dunce when it comes to internet, but happily internet realises this and has made doing things on it spectacularly easy. Nonetheless I feel a sense of achievement that what I wanted to get done I appear to have managed. Mostly this has to do with vanity. I wondered briefly if this is one of the seven deadly sins, but it appears not to be. Pride comes close, but is slightly different, so my only feelings now are those of virtue and humility.

So, the first thing is that for the princely sum of precisely three pounds and fifty-nine pence I have purchased the much sought-after domain name of wansteadbirder.com. A stroke of divine luck that it was still available....  It was remarkably easy, as was making Blogger understand about it. Like I said, the internet was designed with dumbasses like me in mind. The upshot of this is that the new URL for this blog is http://www.wansteadbirder.com/, and not the one ending blogspot.com that it used to be, though I understand that it will still work and bring you here. There. Whatever. Anyhow, if you are the linking sort, please refresh your links to the new address, as it will not make a blind bit of difference. Compelling, no?

Internet didn't let me have it all my own way though, and so as soon as I changed the URL Blogger dropped all my links, including all the photo ones that I have only recently painstakingly added. I have added as many as I can remember back on, and a few more besides, but if there is a glaring gap where once there was a link to your blogging efforts, please get in touch and remind me. Chancers welcome, you never know....

In yet another act of gratuitous pomposity, I have totally revamped http://www.justbirdphotos.com/, including migrating the whole shebang to a new hosting service called Zenfolio. I think it looks a lot better than the old one, and has the benefit of added functionality and a much lower cost. Win win, as they say. It also includes blog functionality, so all the geeky camera shit that I mostly manage to repress on here I can dribble out on there, safe in the knowledge that only fellow photography buffs will be browsing. In addition to the slide show on the homepage, each and every photo - and there are over 500 - now shows EXIF data. You can see what focal length I used, what aperture, ISO and shutter speed. See why I spare you all this normally? I've also branched out, so the Just Bird Photos name is now well and truly non-sensical, as you will now also find butterflies, landscapes, and even one of a frog. Just Frog Photos. Creating the site was childsplay, even if I do say so myself. The difficult bit had to do with repointing DNS somethings. I'm not sure what it means of course, but I had to go onto internet, and make sure that the domain name pointed to a series of numbers that looked like 123.45.678.910 instead of a series of numbers that looked like 098.765.43.21. Amazingly I managed it, and once the overnight hampster shift ended and new hampsters took over, the next time I typed in the address it took me to the new page and not the old one. And if it works for me, I expect it will work for you too. If it doesn't, please complain to Sir Tim Berners-Lee.

More Running. Well, limping.

Whatever the muscles in my legs between the knee and the hip are, I have somehow managed 37 years without them. I thought my main problem was going to be breathing, passing out from lack of oxygen in the blood and so on. Not so, though the breathing part was not without challenges. It's all about the legs. Jeez did they hurt on Wednesday. And on Thursday. And this morning. But I could delay no longer, I knew I had to get out there, so I was up nice and early and forced myself to do it. Despite the internet sniggering, the snide comments about tights and ankles, references to aged aunts, Sloths and search parties, I dragged my poor legs out there and repeated the routine from the other day. Nothing too strenuous, ten minutes of jogging interspersed with fifteen minutes of brisk walking.

On about my second minute in, I heard Lesser Whitethroat (see - this is a bird blog) in Long Wood. I didn't hear it on the way back, about minute eight. All I could hear by that point were my lungs attempting to exit my chest. I took my bins in one hand, and used them just once, to ensure that a Cormorant was just a Cormorant. It was. They have an open bridge design, and are pretty easy to grip whilst running, though the strap and rainguard were a pain. Many joggers have a little doughnut of water, I have Swarovskis ELs.The highlight of my run was probably a coconut on the main path. Swallows, no doubt. My legs don't know quite what to think at this point. They were kind of getting better, and I have gone and shafted them again. They must hate me. I came home, excellently timed as I hit my front door at about 9m 45s, had a shower and started work. The shoes now cost only £4.75 a minute; I am living the dream.

I'm not sure what the weekend holds. A monster bird hopefully, but please God, not on Blakeney.

For all the ankle admirers out there. Please let me know if you still find the socks troubling. Also please note I do not have clown feet, it's just the perspective of a wide angle lens up close.

Gah! Running!

Desperate times friends, desperate times. Yesterday I bought some running shoes and went jogging. Today I can barely walk, and stairs are the invention of the devil. I have two thoughts on jogging.

1) It really really hurts
2) Running shoes cost a bomb, in hindsight it would be have been much cheaper to eat less food and drink less wine

It has been brewing for a while. The other day, a birding associate who shall remain nameless likened me to Jabba the Hutt. Jabba was my thin uncle. I've tried (in the weakest most pathetic possible sense of the word) eating less, but that only lasts for about five minutes, and maybe not even as long as that. I've not tried not drinking, but seriously, I mean come off it. Stop drinking? I can't. Couldn't. It is one of the great pleasures in life, and I have a wine lake to get through. I play no team sports, I don't go the gym. I do a lot of walking, including carrying heavy stuff, but that doesn't cut it. It does however mean that my shoulder and back are a twisted mass of knots. In fact yesterday I figured I might as well go running because it wasn't possible for my back to hurt any more than it already did. I failed to consider my legs though, which I can now barely lift.

I am very happy, chuffed to bits in fact, with many many aspects of my life. The one thing that I am really not happy with is my shape. Waist, gut, and the dreaded moobs.  I have done so little for so long that when I say that I never run for birds, there's a genuine reason why that's the case. I can hardly run for a bus! I thought about cycling, but for some reason I can cycle for miles without it really hurting. I've just discovered that running really hurts, so this has to be a good thing.

You might think from my tortured description that I ran a half-marathon or something. No. I am starting slowly. Incredibly slowly. I have no idea how far I ran, but I am following instructions. Given that I have done no running for about twenty-six years, when I gave up PE in favour of Latin, the suggestion is to run for one minute, and then walk for a while. I couldn't remember how long the while was supposed to be, so made it a minute and then ran for another minute, repeating this five times. Then I was forced to extend the one minute of walking to two minutes of walking, which I also repeated five times. So all told I was out 25 minutes, during which time I ran for 10 of them, and at the end of which I had a stich and was having trouble breathing. You have to start somewhere I suppose. There is no possible way that I can go out again today, what with not really being able to move, but I am hoping that perhaps tomorrow if I repeat the whole sorry saga it might be a bit easier. Then again it might not be, but according to Wise Internet, gradually it will, and then you can extend the minutes. I may never get that far, but I am painfully aware of the need to amortise the shoes, so watch this space. Or look out for the obituary in the Wanstead Village Directory.

Tripping out

I have finally made a “Trips” page. It's up there, on the right. I never really write genuine trip reports, though I do appreciate the efforts of birders who do. Drive 300 yards down the road and park at an obvious blue shed is not really my style, nor do I tend to make a note of who we hired a car from and how much it cost. Details, details, and very dull. Instead I distil what I saw as the best bits into a blog post, accompanied by far more photos than are necessary. Sometimes I write it up day by day, sometimes I do in one hit, it depends on my mood and what else is going on. Despite my reluctance to make a proper job of it, my Birding in New Delhi post remains – by a factor of ten – my most clicked-on blog post ever. I’m sure there’s a lesson there somewhere, but I am steadfastly refusing to learn it.

I saw this funny bird.....

Anyhow, this “Trips” page is essentially a collection of links to those individual blog posts, but with the chronology sorted out. My life is so unbearably exciting that trip chronology very often suffers, for instance when I decide that people absolutely must know about my latest exotically-coloured scrubbing brush before I tell them about the next day of birding in wherever. And sometimes I get so carried away with the here and now that I forget to finish a trip altogether, and just leave it hanging. So disorganised. This fixes that, although there are obviously times it doesn’t work, when for whatever reason I decided to report my travels by species, for instance a post entirely devoted to Puffins.

Maybe one day I’ll write some proper trip reports. I’m sure I did one for a flying visit to Ohio a few years ago, but I can’t find it any more [EDIT - yes I can]. I also wrote up something about the birding I managed on a wedding in Argentina and a funeral in Australia, and will attempt to put links up to them as well, so if you’re interested in either of those two places, or indeed in weddings and funerals, by all means visit again in a few days. And yes, this post is a total filler, I’ve seen nothing since the weekend.