Dieting

Good old-fashioned exercise is not for me. I'm bad at it, and I don't have time. My poor dusty trainers. It's not as if I'm a complete slob though. I average out at roughly an hour per week on the sofa I think, and about a minute of television, if that. I walk a lot, typically carrying heavy and thus I assume calorie burning loads. Or maybe that's just back-breaking. Anyway, I walk far further per day than the average person walks in a week, and a gazillion times further than the pathetic government guidelines. Nonetheless, I would be the first to admit that a certain amount of excess baggage is lumped around my person. Mostly in the middle.....

Enter the new wonder diet that is the five-two diet. Five days off, two (non-consecutive) days on. I've tried the watching what you eat diets, they don't work. I assiduously watch what I eat, and then decide I would like some more of it, and so watch my myself eating that too. I just get fatter. I've no idea if this new brainwave will work for me either, but psychologically it's a lot easier. How hard can it be to get through a single day on minimal calories, knowing that a bagel is just around the corner? And then have several days off not even needing to think about it? Easy - and so it is proving. As I already said, the first five days of my new regime were incredibly easy as they were off days. Monday was my first on day, and it was a bit of a struggle. No breakfast, though mainly this was due to wall-to-wall meetings. A light lunch of pasta topped out at 260 calories, a miniature tuna sandwich can't have been anything at all, and I had plain roast beef for dinner which I estimated at around another 300 calories. The only slightly worrying fact pattern is that with a couple of coffees thrown in (can't give up the sugar, eeeugh) that left no room for anything green to pass my lips. Anyhow, I made it - and this on a work day when I had to have my thinking cap on, which I told burns the cals like nobody's business. Was I grumpy when I got home? Ever so slightly, but not so as you'd notice..... But this meant that yesterday was a complete joy! Poached eggs and hash browns for breakfast. Chicken, chips and salad for lunch. Smoked salmon, champagne (a minor celebration, more on this another time), a miniscule steak and a crème brûlée for dinner. I barely noticed I was dieting!

Today was my second on day, and it has been awful. I blew it big time at 9am with 250 calories of buttered bagel, and since then have had to suffer in silence. I've just eaten the world's smallest home-made (especially for me) turkey burger, a single cherry tomato, and a thimble of couscous. 120 calories? 150? I am starving, but this is OK as it would appear that I have at least 200 calories to go before I hit the magic 600. Fantastic, so what'll it be? Well, rather than waste this veritable bounty of as-yet unconsumed pleasure on food, I have just looked up what's in a glass bottle of wine. 550 for white, 510 for Red. I propose to push the boat out and open the white.

Happier times.....

Start of the week

Bar the Cuckoo, a slightly disappointing weekend for mid-May. Nevermind eh, always next weekend...... there are only so many weekends I can say about surely? The only tick in UK existence for me were the resident White-billed Divers up in the Moray Firth. They could have been a shoe-in, and were I more dedicated I might perhaps have gone, but a 20 hour round trip would have destroyed me. I've also grown bored of tweeting how amazing I am at birding, and so really have very little to say.

Today I was at Canary Wharf, and the major news, bar my massive dedication and another nearly 11 hour day, is that I have purchased some new sunglasses which I hope will revolutionise my birding. They differ in two critical ways from my old sunglasses. Firstly they are pretty much flat and so are extremely easy to use with bins. The old ones were the curvy ones which proved extremely problematic with bins, to the point where I gave up and just squinted. God knows how many Marsh Harriers I missed. Secondly, I know exactly where the new sunglasses are, which is something I cannot say about the old ones, and which precipated their purchase this afternoon. According to the sales assistant, I was the first customer to spend time down one end of the shop trying on sunglasses and then looking through binoculars to the other end of the shop. She took it very well to be fair, as did all the other punters. In fact not a word was spoken, nary a glance stolen. I guess this being Canary Wharf, people are far too self-absorbed to notice a nondescript yet dashingly handsome young man pissing about with optics in the corner of a shop. I am now much poorer, with a highly uncool pair of sunnies made by.....er, I don't actually remember and they are downstairs and I am upstairs. Paul somebody I think. Anyhow, they look like toy sunglasses, but during an extensive test were the ones which proved easiest to get a clear view though using my bins (with the eyecups retracted). Here's to many hours of successful and soothing skywatching.

Note I say successful skywatching. This is critical part. Unsuccessful skywatching is really dull, and I partook in something like seven hours of it on Sunday. The first three were on Hackney Marshes whilst watching my son play in a cricket match. The cricket was obviously highly absorbing (Wide. Wide. Wide. No ball. Wide.) but nonetheless I found time to gaze at a birdless sky. I continued doing this when I got home, scoring almost as many good birds. Not a single raptor in seven hours. I would descibe my performance as zeroic, a new word I have just invented. Perhaps it was due to my lack of sunnies. Wanstead CC won the match, with Muffin bowling the penultimate over when the game was in the balance. One wicket maiden later and it was all over. Bamboozled the poor kid for five deliveries, with the sixth neatly knocking off the off stump bail. Attaboy!

In other news, I've started a diet. It's called the 5-2 diet, I'm sure you've heard of it. The idea is that you eat like a pig and drink like a fish for five days out of seven, and consume practically nothing for the other two. I started last week, and the first five days were remarkably easy. A breeze, the most enjoyable diet I've ever been on. Today was more difficult....

Patch Tick!

Today I got a patch tick, as in an ever tick. These are always brilliant, no matter what the bird, and today it was the turn of the Cuckoo. Everyone has seen Cuckoo the patch apart from me, and I was secretly a little worried that I might never get one, especially as they are a bird in decline. But I've scored now, and nobody can ever take it away...

Whitethroat...

I'd actually left the house this morning with Cuckoo firmly in mind, but after a few hours of aimless wandering, and having seen very little apart from a real Garden Warbler, I was resigned to failing yet again. Until I rounded the very last corner on the very last path, and a familiar shape launched itself out of a roadside tree and scooted off across some brooms. Gah! I texted out the happy news to a few locals quickly, and then headed the way it had flown to see if I could relocate it. And if I'm honest, confirm the ID - for a moment I was worried I'd been a little hasty in my excitement, but first impressions are very often correct (cf Garden Warbler) and so when I relocated it perched on the side of some vegetation I knew it was in the bag. A quick couple of record shots from a huge distance, and then it flew through and out and was never seen again.

Not the best, but very much good enough!

So, patch tick number 136, and lifts my year list to the heady heights of 103. Now many people have been moaning about how dire this year has been bar a few concentrated bursts, but I was amazed to see that 103 is a number that in recent years I've not reached until August, and in 2010 not until September, and there are still quite a few obvious ones left to bag, such as Bullfinch, Spotted Flycatcher, Common Tern and Wryneck. At this rate it might even be a record-breaking year - 113 is the number to beat, my total in both of the last two years. Early days of course, and it could all dry up very quickly, but it's certainly lifting my enthusiasm for patch birding. Which is a good thing as my 400th UK tick remains distinctly out of reach.

While I'm here, I should also say that the Whitethroat I had specifically got up to target wasn't there, so here is a photo of a Wren instead. Roll on tomorrow!

Lowering the tone somewhat

When I was wondering what I might write about today, I considered a few things. For instance I thought that I might break the mould and write about birding. Then I remembered that I hadn't picked up binoculars all week, and despite being an incredibly amazing birder, had consequently seen almost nothing. Then I thought about photography, which actually I think about almost constantly. Then I remembered that I hadn't picked up my camera all week either, and so have taken no photos since the ones of the kids playing cricket on Bank Holiday Monday. Hmm, no good blog material there then. I wondered briefly about rolling out a post on how lovely spring Black-eared Wheatears are, but that would have been about four words (Black-eared, Wheatears, lovely & are, in case you were wondering) and about a million photos, and thus would have made rather dull reading. Col over at Galley Head has spent the day birding Heathrow Airport, and suggested I write that up for him as he won't have time. I liked the idea, kind of like a guest post but in reverse, and was just about to start when I remembered that I had been called a C*** face (with a capital C no less!) on Twitter at 5.30am this morning. Now that's pretty special isn't it?

DB: Oh leave it, he's not werf it Jono.

Soothing Panda

This is very true. Just like James A the other day, my first reaction was to laugh, and in fact I've been sniggering for most of the day. Except, that is, for when I've been in meetings, which was most of the day. You see I have to work for a living, just like most people do. My chosen career may not be especially in favour or particularly worthy in the charitable sense of the word, but it's a job, and for a variety of reasons I get up every morning and I do it. Meanwhile my sweary admirer spends his day sleeping on the side of a reservoir being the best birder on the face of planet Earth. But he objects (vociferously, as above) to being labelled a lazy bastard. And quite right too, how I ever got that impression I have no idea.

So, I am now all set for one of my customary right-wing rants, but do you know what, I'm going to pass it up. Bradders has suggested, quite correctly, that I should think happy weekend thoughts (i.e. the BIG one!!) and not waste my keyboard. Probably for the best. All I will say is this. People may think of me as some kind of Toryboy (do I recall a comment suggesting I was the lovechild of George Osborne?) but actually that couldn't be much further from the truth. I am about as apolitical as they come and I view all of them with equal disdain. I disagree with many (perhaps even most) things that the current Government is doing and has done, but also what the bunch before them did. I'm not pretending I'm Mother Theresa either, but she and I agreed on one thing, which is that we both hate scroungers. People who take advantage of the system and who spend their days enjoying themselves doing what I would like to be doing (i.e. birding) really, and I mean really rile me. In other words it's pure jealousy, and twattish (and by the looks of it, deleted) comments on Twitter are neither here nor there.

Oh, what could it be?

So, with that largely off my chest, what will the weekend bring? A couple of weeks ago I said that the two weekends preceding this one, including the three-dayer, would guarantee me my 400th tick. Slavering, I would move heaven and earth to get there, and revel in the glory of seeing a bird that somebody else found. Needless to say it didn't happen. A brief Rock Thrush could have been a contender, but as I was working (note I'm not asking for a medal, plenty of people in my position) I couldn't get there and it did the time-honoured Friday night bunk. As I type this, two different Collared Flycatchers have turned up, as well as a smattering of Red-backed Shrikes and other European scarcities. It bodes fairly well, and the weekend is largely free according to my diary. Bring it on. First thing on the agenda is a Common Whitethroat on Wanstead Flats though, where I reckon I can get pretty close to its singing perch. Not to photograph it you understand, but to go through the suite of ID features....

Is Wanstead actually the Brecks, and what happened to the big one?

Think about it for a minute. We get oodles of Redstart, regular Tree Pipits, bi-annual Stone-Curlew, and millions of Goshawks - Wanstead must be part of the Brecks. Bradders Birding Tours was running it's annual Breckland tour in search of year ticks, er sorry, I mean birds that the tour leader doesn't see very many of. That's because he doesn't live in Wanstead, where such birds are nothing out of the ordinary. Tree Pipit? Had a couple already. Stone-curlew? Whatever. Redstarts? Only about six. So far. I got a couple of year ticks admittedly, as did Nick, for instance a smart Red-footed Falcon and Very Short-billed Duck, but essentially it was same old same old, but in a different context. Such is the life of a dedicated patchworker in urban London; there are no surprises anymore. It's one of the reasons I love Scotland, as I rarely see Pine Grosbeaks and Harlequins in Wanstead.

After stitching Nick up with a heard-only Golden Pheasant lifer, we stopped off at Thetford for the Otters, one of which showed amazingly, but not quite in the desired location. Instead I spent some time with a new species of Duck I'd not come across before, namely the aforementioned Very Short-billed Duck. If you're eating, or have small children on your lap, I suggest you look away now, as despite being a mega rarity it's not what you might call a looker. Otters are pretty cute and cuddly though aren't they?

Dabbling is going to be problematic. The sooner the Otter finishes the job the better.

A quick diversion to Lakenheath for a Red-footed Falcon was very pleasant in a shirt sleeves kind of way, and before long we were into proper Wanstead, sorry, Breckland birding. A singing Tree Pipit, a few Stone-curlews, a handful of Redstarts and the odd Woodlark. If you don't have time to put in the hours in Wanstead, it has to be said that a quick spin round the Brecks can be nearly as good at the right time of year, and we were able to show Bradders all of our specialities in pretty short order whilst wandering around in the sunshine in a calm and relaxed manner.

On the whole though, it was far quieter than I was hoping it was going to be. The "big one" was notable for it's absence. A scattering of Purple Herons, a few Red-foots, a Black-winged Stilt. Nice spring overshoots for sure, but not the monster that a Bank Holiday weekend could have been capable of. Should have been capable of. So I've done what all dedicated listers do, and sat around in the sunshine either in the garden at home. This gained me, in total, six Buzzards, two Kestrels, three Sparrowhawks, upwards of twenty Swifts, and my first two Wanstead Hobbies.

Basically the weekend has been all about Wanstead, in many ways just as it should be. I finished the weekend at Wanstead Cricket Club, having a beer in the sunshine. My eldest has been keen on cricket for some time now, but for the first time my daughters went along as well. It's early days, but they play so much in the garden (forced into it I suspect) that they seemed quite keen to go and do it for real. I'm well aware that it has been some time since I mentioned the kids on this blog, and that it's all become worrying one dimensional, i.e. moaning about stuff plus the odd photo, so it's good to get back to basics. Almost unbelievably they're now nine, seven and five. Where did it go? Anyway, I am still a doting (if strict, grumpy and shouty) father, and today I spent a happy few hours in the sunshine watching the kids run about and have fun. I could have pissed off to Maldon to get Black-winged Stilt on my Essex list, but sometimes, just sometimes, other things take precedence. The fact that I was well over the limit is neither here nor there. Anyhow, here's a few fresh off the memory card to show that I still have them.

Pudding, five

Pie, seven

Muffin, nine

Ospreys, Kingfishers and Elephants

This morning was a bit of a write-off after some beers last night. The tipple of choice was "Osprey", and I am afraid to say that I over-indulged. Paying for it this morning, I wondered what I could do that would add meaning to my day. Ah-hah, I had it! I would go to a local wildlife reserve and photograph Kingfishers from a hide. What could possibly go wrong?

A Hawk and some Ospreys

Just about everything it transpires.I almost don't know where to start it was so painful. For ten though, to the woman in hob-nailed boots who came into the hide possibly eight times in three minutes, walked a circuit and then left again, if I ever see you again it will be too soon. To the fat, lumpy, green-clad dudes incapable of being quiet, and whose mission if life it was to excitedly and loudly point out the Kingfisher every time it flew in, I am in awe of your crassness. To the man with the velcro jacket who opened it and closed it again upwards of ten times in an hour, you nearly died. To all those with cameras who inexplicably rattled off a thousand frames when the bird was about half a mile away, I hope you enjoy your fuzzy blue dots and that they win prizes. To the ineffectual volunteer who any time anyone brushed the screen netting said not to touch the netting as it would scare the birds away, and yet failed to mention that shouting, pointing, stomping, slamming, waving and running might also have the same effect, I have no idea what to say. You are selflessly giving your time, and for that I salute you, but you are also completely wasting your time.

Stomp stomp stomp THERE IT IS!!! Slam Stomp stomp slam click click clickclickclick click stomp IT'S COMING CLOSER!!! please don't stomp click touch the stomp click click netting you'll IS THAT THE MALE? OH LOOK IT'S GONE INTO scare the birds THE HOLE click stomp stomp slam stomp away stomp ! LOOK AT THAT!!! stomp click stomp click OOOHHH!!!! IT'S HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!! WAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!! Oh, it appears to have flown off........

Gah!

I tested my exposure about eight times while I was there, and took one photo of the bird before realising I was wasting my time and leaving. There was no way it was going to come anywhere near the hide, the entire length of the window has been covered with scrim netting with just a few blank spots (with good reason, but it is highly irritating), the distortion through the glass was nearly impossible to deal with, and the place was chock full of absolute cretins.

I hate hides. I hate the occupants of hides. If it were just me in a hide, I could probably just about stand it, but even then I reckon I'd probably end up hating myself after a few hours. We just don't get on. OK, so the saturday of a bank holiday weekend was never likely to be the best hide experience I was ever going to have, but the lack of any common sense whatsoever was mind-blowing. If you're in a hide to watch birds, especially sensitive schedule 1 birds like Kingfishers, but really any hide, surely you must realise that sitting still and being quiet are of paramount importance? And if you don't, why don't you? And more importantly, how are you going to learn?

I suppose the mission of the RSPB is to raise awareness of birds, and to have people enjoy birds as if they enjoy them then they will help look after them. Fair play to them for keeping the hide open to allow that to take place, had it been me I would simply have locked it up for the duration. But if you're going to go to all that effort, why not make it absolutely clear as to how you behave in a hide? Silence, and no fidgeting.  No clogs, and no running. No shouting, no waving, and no screaming. Or you're thrown out. Easy.

I wandered around for a little bit, but my heart wasn't really in it, and the arrival of rain was in many ways a blessing and I went home to have a good old moan. I'm a big fan of my local wildlife reserve - I'm a voluteer there in fact - and I know I shouldn't be rude about it (and fellow volunteers), but there are some times when you go there and it just seems to typify everything that is wrong with watching wildlife in this country, which I suppose is largely that the people who watch it are mostly idiots out for a nice walk. Well meaning I don't doubt, and it's great so many people are at least a bit interested, but for the love of God please please please just SIT STILL and above all, SHUT UP!!!

Birder Economics

Forget about life after death. Forget about whether we are alone in the universe. Forget about Elvis. The key question is this: How can birders get both money and time? I cannot think of a question even remotely as challenging as this. At various points in my life I've had lots of time in which to go birding, but no money with which to help expand that birding beyond a 1km radius from my house. At other points in my life I've had money in which to extend that 1km radius into several thousand kilometres, but then find myself with no time in which to really do it justice, for instance by spending six weeks in Costa Rica with a 500mm lens and an infinite supply of memory cards.

There are some straightforward answers of course. Marry an heiress is a fairly obvious one, but in my case presents various complications, for instance not knowing any. And already being married. Get a job that pays you to go birding, and pays really well? Nice if you can get it, but few people can. Being a scientist would perhaps help, then you can go and live in Brazil and look at birds and perhaps even get paid for it too, but I'd imagine that also attempting to also live in London would be pushing it. Oh, and I have no scientific qualifications. In fact, I have almost no qualifications of any kind. Winning the lottery would be massively helpful. Unfortunately I view the lottery as a tax on stupid people, and so do not play it, which means I am very unlikely to win it.

Would that I could do this for a living!

In other words, with the time and money simultaneously option essentially ruled out, it becomes very much a choice. Which is more important? The easy answer is time, because people have a finite amount of it, and you could be run over by a bus at any moment. Then again, if like me you have a family fairly deeply embedded in London and not wanting to go and live in a caravan at Spurn, then you can't really turn your nose up at money. It is necessary to have it here and most anywhere, and having it makes life ever so much easier than not having it. I have a mate than maintains I am the luckiest person on the planet. Whilst I agree that there could be an element of luck involved, primarily my circumstances are down to hard graft and sacrifice. And working hard means having no time. The reason I'm writing this is that the last few weeks have been hugely painful, and this week in particular is shaping up to be what is known as a "classic". As far as I can tell, it's been blue sky and sunshine almost wall to wall, and yet I have not been able to enjoy any of it, and after another 11 hour day I'm feeling pretty deflated. Beer waiting in the fridge will help.

On the plus side, at least I don't have a massive tick on my face. Or have to eat worms.

I'm well aware that a "woe is me" blog post is unlikely to win me many admirers from the mainly left-wing birding community, I am after all a city worker etc etc. But two things in particular grate. One is that my birding opportunities are limited to the early morning and recently I have been too tired to get up and take advantage of the lovely light. And secondly that there seem to be plenty of people out there who are able to bird all day every day without the inconvenience of work. I guess that for the most part this is simply the alternative choice to mine though. How many of them are able to just swan about in the sunshine I dare not guess, I just hope I'm not helping them do so if you see what I mean. Not that I would dare write about that of course. Once bitten.....For now, I guess I just have to look forward to the next holiday. In that sense I suppose I am lucky - there are plenty of people out there who I am sure work a whole lot harder than I do, but who have nothing to look forward to. Then again, for some there is possibly an element of choice there too.