Sunday, 23 June 2013
First few from Hungary
Yeah yeah, I know. One long holiday... No point in denying it I suppose, but I can only say that I deserve it. This one has been planned for a long time - photography pure and simple. Many of my trips certainly involve a camera, but it's rare that it completely dominates. This trip is the exception to that rule. It involves sitting in hides, not my thing at really, but it does force the issue somewhat. So, here are a few that I've processed from my hotel room in Balmazujvaros in eastern Hungary, right on the edge of the Hortobagy National Park. My laptop doesn't have the greatest screen in the world, but I'm hoping they're OK. Tomorrow I'm off to a Bee-eater hide. I expect I'll hate it.
Saturday, 22 June 2013
Birding through the night
We had arranged to sleep from 6pm to midnight, and barring an 11pm fire alarm I believe I actually slept right through. If I listened carefully I reckon I could hear some snoring next door, but these Gulags are pretty solidly built and I'm extremely grateful to the foresight of some true comrades for a quality night's sleep despite the mattress being only 1.5cm thick. We left just as some new prisoners were being checked in, with the warder hesitantly wishing us a pleasant night. He probably thought we were mad, but he did let us out, so good for him. It was probably the darkest we had experienced - still perfectly adequate for reading Gosney's guide to finding birds in southern Finland though. Our targets were the genuine night singers - River Warbler, Corncrake and in particular Blyth's Reed Warbler. The next few hours were surreal and wonderful. We birded a series of roads and tracks close to the border town of Vartsilya. No Great Snipe, but three River Warblers, multiple Corncrakes, and approaching double figures of Blyth's Reed. I've always dismissed this latter as being mind-bogglingly dull, and indeed have passed up two cast-iron opportunities to add it to my BOU list in case I died of boredom whilst watching them. Singing birds are an entirely different proposition however, and entirely worthwhile. Got some amazing views of a couple of birds properly going for it, and got to grips with the Lesser Whitethroat-like "Tek" call note. Maybe my next sojourn on Shetland will see one of these wanderers arrive, but will I go and see it? The trouble with European birding, indeed birding abroad anywhere, is that it makes twitching in the UK even sillier that it already is. Why schlep halfway across the country to see a stray waif in the company of several hundred sweaty green-clad weirdos, when you've seen the real deal in habitat? Mind you, didn't stop me twitching Shetland for Pine Grosbeak did it? Idiot.
Whinchats sing through the night too. So do Yellowhammers. So do Rosefinches, Curlews and pretty much everything else. It's a crazy place, yet totally wonderful. The south-east of the country is particularly rich, and we had a long list of sites to visit as recommended by Gosney. The first of these was a place called Kitee, site of another large lake and where we found our first Pochards of the trip, as well as getting some great views of Black-throated Divers. A track through some fields close to Punkaharju netted Hen Harrier and invisible Ortolan Bunting. The best was yet to come though; Punkaharju Arboretum. As if Finland doesn't have enough trees.....when the good councillors of Punkaharju were wondering what civic amenity might best serve the local community, I wonder what their thought process was? Swimming Pool? Nah. Go-karting track? Nah. I know, what about an Arboretum where we can grow loads of pine trees! Winner, they'll love it! The birding was ace. Every type of bird imaginable has been forced to live in a conifer, including stupid things like Lesser Whitethroat. I mean what kind of habitat is that for a Lesser Whitethroat? Nutcracker I can understand, but......hang on a minute! Yes I did day that, and what a great bird! When we were planning the trip the three of scored our potential targets to see if any of them were either missable or not to be missed. I scored Nutcracker the highest, the same the Owls.
We spent most of the morning birding here, hoping against hope for Hazel Grouse, but again drawing a blank. A quick tour around a bird lake whose name escapes me but was something like Siikalahti netted us three species of Grebe, as well as Osprey and Thrush Nightingale for the trip list, and were basically done. Just time for a celebratory meal in Lahti, another night of torture from the Prof, and back to London early next morning. Frazzles, I rather heroically went straight to work, allowing my colleagues to see a side of me that had hitherto remained unknown. The one where I stagger unshaven and red-eyed into the office, weighed down by optics and looking like I've spent the last three days without any sleep in a mosquito-ridden forest. Nothing of course could have been further from the truth.
We spent most of the morning birding here, hoping against hope for Hazel Grouse, but again drawing a blank. A quick tour around a bird lake whose name escapes me but was something like Siikalahti netted us three species of Grebe, as well as Osprey and Thrush Nightingale for the trip list, and were basically done. Just time for a celebratory meal in Lahti, another night of torture from the Prof, and back to London early next morning. Frazzles, I rather heroically went straight to work, allowing my colleagues to see a side of me that had hitherto remained unknown. The one where I stagger unshaven and red-eyed into the office, weighed down by optics and looking like I've spent the last three days without any sleep in a mosquito-ridden forest. Nothing of course could have been further from the truth.
Friday, 21 June 2013
Staying awake for longer than is good for a person
We finished Owling at around 1pm, and after we had bled Antti dry for local gen, had a meal and cleaned ourselves up, it was probably about 3ish. Finally, a bed, probably the thing I had been most keen on seeing other than owls. The plan was to get up at around 9pm, and go birding locally, before dropping down towards the Russian border about four hours away so as to be in position for yet more spectacular birding during the best period, which is 2-6am. With info on singing Red-flanked Bluetails, we were well prepared to go the extra mile, so to speak.
What we were in no way prepared for was the volume nor the persistence of the snoring that was to come from the Prof. Quite unbelievable, an unholy mating of a Walrus and the Flying Scotsman. A correspondent suggested a flight of Lancaster bombers, but no raid over Germany ever emitted this sound. This was seismic in scale and scope. He would start off slowly before settling into a steady rhythm. At this point I estimated perhaps 110 decibels, or Concorde taking off. Gradually though it would build, to the point the walls began to shake, and then would come the climactic snort. Enormous. Devastating. Epic. Like Krakatoa blowing up. Nearby lakes probably experienced Tsunamis. This would have the effect of actually semi-rousing the Prof momentarily from his beatific state, and was sometimes accompanied by a small noise of fright, but never quite waking him though, at which point it would start all over again. I had considered myself so tired that nothing could possibly have stopped me falling into the world's deepest sleep. I could not have been more wrong. I got up, paced around, videoed the monstrous performance for posterity (which could yet find its way to a worldwide audience!), and after finding no cushions with which to smother him, retreated wearily to bed, there to lie wide awake despite something like 33 hours on the go. Needless to say our planned lengthy restorative sleep never really came to fruition, and so after four hours of torture, we pulled the plug and got up to carry on birding.
It's still broad daylight at 7pm in mid-Finland. Our base was the Liminganlahti Nature Reserve, Finnature's base in the area. It's a superb place, brilliantly functional (bar sound-proofing) and situated at the southern tip of an estuary. We made our way to the birding tower for a look around, and started adding to our already extensive trip list immediately. Flights of Wood Sandpipers, Ruff, summer plumaged Blackwits and heaps of stunning Little Gulls. Glorious, but we were unable to tarry with a full agenda planned, even with the extra hours granted to us by the Prof's malfunctioning airways.
Our next stop was the port area at Oulu, wader central. More Wood Sandpipers, breeding Redshank and LRP, a small colony of Arctic Terns. The main target was Terek Sandpiper, but in my zombie-like state I missed the only brief flight view. Maybe I saw it, maybe I didn't, but not matter, one day this blocker will fall, hopefully back in the UK if I can ever manage to be free when one pitches up. Woodcock overhead, Merg and Goosander in the bay, and our first and I think only Starlings of the trip. Great birding, and slightly surreal given the time of day, but it to was get even weirder when close by we twitched a breeding pair of Citrine Wagtail at around midnight in full daylight. The darkest period is probably around 1am, but it wouldn't even count as half light. It basically a bit dull, like the UK in about November, and then about ten minutes later the sun starts to rise again and it brightens up. What I want to know is when the birds sleep? We spent most "nights" birding, and the Fieldfares and many others would go straight through. Similarly I located the Citrine Wags on call, and they seemed very much awake. I thought living organisms died if they didn't sleep - certainly that's what I was beginning to feel like! We added Shelduck here, also wide awake and flying around.
A quick 'bargain' burger stop in a services and we headed south-east-ish towards a couple of sites where some last-minute gen courtesy of some mates of Rich B told of Willow Grouse, Greenish Warbler and several singing Bluetails (more accurately called Orange-flanked Bluetails by the Finns). We didn't manage the Willow Grouse but did find an early morning Black Grouse perched up, as well as Golden Plover and a noisy Wood Sandpiper by the side of the road. The next area led us to the singing Greenish almost immediately, where we got great views of it perched atop the highest tree belting it out - a great sound and one that I might stand a chance of remembering. No sign of the Bluetails, but we get massively confused by singing Redwing - they sounded mega and had us really excited until we espied one actually making the wonderful sounds we had been hearing and were thus crushed. Our final site of the morning was an area called Losonvaara, an area of old growth taiga forest. It delivered immediately, even before we'd had a chance to break out the coffee, with the zippy song of what could only be a Bluetail. OK, so they're not as rare as they once were - even I have seen three in the UK, but they're still mind-blowingly brilliant. We eventually found three birds singing from prominent perches, including two blue adult males - something I've not seen before. Also here were at least two Greenish Warblers, and evidence of Hazel Grouse if not the birds themselves. We walked a recommended track, inhaling the pine frangranced air and generally feeling at peace with the world. I would like Chateau L to smell strongly of pine, so may go and source some pine-emitting diodes or whatever. I'd also like it to have resident Bluetails but that may prove more difficult.
Once we were done here, we realised it was only nine in the morning and yet we'd been birding for about 14 hours. This is what I mean when I say that Finland fucks you up. The place is so nice, the birding so good, and the light so constant that the temptation to continue birding is too strong to resist. It's still light, the birds are still singing, so you just find yourself carrying on, kidding yourself that you're actually feeling OK. Ish. You begin to get the shakes after a while, and feel incredibly light-headed, or alternately like your head weighs several hundred kilos. And yet you plod on, you keep pushing. I'm not sure I would have gone to bed at all if Bradders hadn't insisted we stop mid-afternoon at a town near the Russian border called Tohmajarvi. And anyway, what was the point in trying to go to sleep with Mount Whiteman erupting in the corner? This latter problem was solved by our next hotel having been a Soviet Interrogation Centre in a previous era, and as such had the option of separate cells which we gratefully accepted. This time I slept, and a good thing too as the ratio of hours working/travelling/birding to sleeping was a rather worrying 56:4.
What we were in no way prepared for was the volume nor the persistence of the snoring that was to come from the Prof. Quite unbelievable, an unholy mating of a Walrus and the Flying Scotsman. A correspondent suggested a flight of Lancaster bombers, but no raid over Germany ever emitted this sound. This was seismic in scale and scope. He would start off slowly before settling into a steady rhythm. At this point I estimated perhaps 110 decibels, or Concorde taking off. Gradually though it would build, to the point the walls began to shake, and then would come the climactic snort. Enormous. Devastating. Epic. Like Krakatoa blowing up. Nearby lakes probably experienced Tsunamis. This would have the effect of actually semi-rousing the Prof momentarily from his beatific state, and was sometimes accompanied by a small noise of fright, but never quite waking him though, at which point it would start all over again. I had considered myself so tired that nothing could possibly have stopped me falling into the world's deepest sleep. I could not have been more wrong. I got up, paced around, videoed the monstrous performance for posterity (which could yet find its way to a worldwide audience!), and after finding no cushions with which to smother him, retreated wearily to bed, there to lie wide awake despite something like 33 hours on the go. Needless to say our planned lengthy restorative sleep never really came to fruition, and so after four hours of torture, we pulled the plug and got up to carry on birding.
It's still broad daylight at 7pm in mid-Finland. Our base was the Liminganlahti Nature Reserve, Finnature's base in the area. It's a superb place, brilliantly functional (bar sound-proofing) and situated at the southern tip of an estuary. We made our way to the birding tower for a look around, and started adding to our already extensive trip list immediately. Flights of Wood Sandpipers, Ruff, summer plumaged Blackwits and heaps of stunning Little Gulls. Glorious, but we were unable to tarry with a full agenda planned, even with the extra hours granted to us by the Prof's malfunctioning airways.
Our next stop was the port area at Oulu, wader central. More Wood Sandpipers, breeding Redshank and LRP, a small colony of Arctic Terns. The main target was Terek Sandpiper, but in my zombie-like state I missed the only brief flight view. Maybe I saw it, maybe I didn't, but not matter, one day this blocker will fall, hopefully back in the UK if I can ever manage to be free when one pitches up. Woodcock overhead, Merg and Goosander in the bay, and our first and I think only Starlings of the trip. Great birding, and slightly surreal given the time of day, but it to was get even weirder when close by we twitched a breeding pair of Citrine Wagtail at around midnight in full daylight. The darkest period is probably around 1am, but it wouldn't even count as half light. It basically a bit dull, like the UK in about November, and then about ten minutes later the sun starts to rise again and it brightens up. What I want to know is when the birds sleep? We spent most "nights" birding, and the Fieldfares and many others would go straight through. Similarly I located the Citrine Wags on call, and they seemed very much awake. I thought living organisms died if they didn't sleep - certainly that's what I was beginning to feel like! We added Shelduck here, also wide awake and flying around.
A quick 'bargain' burger stop in a services and we headed south-east-ish towards a couple of sites where some last-minute gen courtesy of some mates of Rich B told of Willow Grouse, Greenish Warbler and several singing Bluetails (more accurately called Orange-flanked Bluetails by the Finns). We didn't manage the Willow Grouse but did find an early morning Black Grouse perched up, as well as Golden Plover and a noisy Wood Sandpiper by the side of the road. The next area led us to the singing Greenish almost immediately, where we got great views of it perched atop the highest tree belting it out - a great sound and one that I might stand a chance of remembering. No sign of the Bluetails, but we get massively confused by singing Redwing - they sounded mega and had us really excited until we espied one actually making the wonderful sounds we had been hearing and were thus crushed. Our final site of the morning was an area called Losonvaara, an area of old growth taiga forest. It delivered immediately, even before we'd had a chance to break out the coffee, with the zippy song of what could only be a Bluetail. OK, so they're not as rare as they once were - even I have seen three in the UK, but they're still mind-blowingly brilliant. We eventually found three birds singing from prominent perches, including two blue adult males - something I've not seen before. Also here were at least two Greenish Warblers, and evidence of Hazel Grouse if not the birds themselves. We walked a recommended track, inhaling the pine frangranced air and generally feeling at peace with the world. I would like Chateau L to smell strongly of pine, so may go and source some pine-emitting diodes or whatever. I'd also like it to have resident Bluetails but that may prove more difficult.
Once we were done here, we realised it was only nine in the morning and yet we'd been birding for about 14 hours. This is what I mean when I say that Finland fucks you up. The place is so nice, the birding so good, and the light so constant that the temptation to continue birding is too strong to resist. It's still light, the birds are still singing, so you just find yourself carrying on, kidding yourself that you're actually feeling OK. Ish. You begin to get the shakes after a while, and feel incredibly light-headed, or alternately like your head weighs several hundred kilos. And yet you plod on, you keep pushing. I'm not sure I would have gone to bed at all if Bradders hadn't insisted we stop mid-afternoon at a town near the Russian border called Tohmajarvi. And anyway, what was the point in trying to go to sleep with Mount Whiteman erupting in the corner? This latter problem was solved by our next hotel having been a Soviet Interrogation Centre in a previous era, and as such had the option of separate cells which we gratefully accepted. This time I slept, and a good thing too as the ratio of hours working/travelling/birding to sleeping was a rather worrying 56:4.
Thursday, 20 June 2013
Owling in Oulu
The whole point of going to Finland was to see Owls, but it would be remiss of me to not mention a certain Swift that all but three UK birders have now seen. It was bound to happen, in fact I predicted it at Heathrow before we left, and sure enough it did, adding insult to injury by remaining for two solid days and being reported at regular enough intervals to make the Prof cry. I was relatively sanguine about it, as was young Bradders, but the Prof? Oh dear. I've missed more than enough now to not care if I miss another, but I guess when you've seen as many birds as he has, they all matter. Upon arrival home, and despite being dead on his feet, he immediately twitched the Holt Roller for his Norfolk list, but this was only a consolation prize really. A shame, but there you go, if you didn't want to miss anything you would never go away anywhere and never have any of these amazing experiences, and even Prof W would agree that the Owls were amazing.
The only way to see Owls is to perform a small quasi-religious ritual involving Euro banknotes. You all sit around a small pot at midnight holding hands and going "OMG OMG OMG", and wantonly throw Euros into it until you are completely and utterly broke. After that you give the pot to a representative from Finnature, and then Owls immediately start to appear. Simple. We saw Great Grey Owl about fifteen minutes after setting off, and it was magnificent. Enormously magnificent. My photos were less than magnificent, so you will just to imagine its magnificence. Over the course of the next ten hours we were taken from one site to another to enjoy the secretive birds of the region, the guides having staked out multiple nest sites for all the species. Three-toed Woodpecker fell pretty quickly, but Ural Owl took two attempts at different sites. On the plus side it didn't kill or maim us. Pygmy Owl (my fave bird of the trip, so much attitude) was at the first nest hole we tried, but Tengmalm's Owl took three different locations before a nearly fledged chick was found having a look around.
We couldn't find Hazel Grouse, but we peaked at over 100 species in the course of our trip out with Antti, including extra treats like Black Woodpecker. Was it expensive? Yes. Is it a captive market? Yes. Was it worth it? Yes. You stand practically no chance of finding these owls yourself if you go up, days and days of searching and you might jam in on one if you were spectacularly lucky. Pay up though, and you get to see all of them in half a day, though I understand we were perhaps the first group to manage it this year as GG Owl was far from guaranteed. Time, as they say, is money, and so I forked out and I'm glad I did. I thoroughly recommend it.
I could not in good conscience fail to mention a considerable downside to our owl mission, and that is that the insect life within Finnish forests at this time of year can only be described as voracious. Finland is basically one large boggy forest with a shed load of lakes thrown in. This is mosquito heaven. It doesn't matter what counter measures you take - repellents are just a garnish, clothing a slight challenge, and we were eaten alive. To the point where tick and run (literally, run) became the order of the day. It is difficult to choose the worst point, to single out the hungriest. The Three-toed Woodpecker nest hole site probably takes the prize, but the first Ural Owl site (the one without the owl....) was relentless. Almost no part of me was safe, I lost pints. My wrists and hairline were particularly singled out, and by the end of the day they were biting through the previous bites, to the point where when I ran my hand over the back of my neck it felt a bit like bubble-wrap. I've no idea who they liked best, who was especially favoured/savoured, but I'd like to think that the Prof was the tenderest of the three of us and thus the most enjoyed. My bites have mostly declined now, but it was hellish out there. Next time I go I intend to take one of two items - either a full bee-keepers outfit, or a hat with a dozen Pied Flycatchers attached to it with small pieces of string.
The only way to see Owls is to perform a small quasi-religious ritual involving Euro banknotes. You all sit around a small pot at midnight holding hands and going "OMG OMG OMG", and wantonly throw Euros into it until you are completely and utterly broke. After that you give the pot to a representative from Finnature, and then Owls immediately start to appear. Simple. We saw Great Grey Owl about fifteen minutes after setting off, and it was magnificent. Enormously magnificent. My photos were less than magnificent, so you will just to imagine its magnificence. Over the course of the next ten hours we were taken from one site to another to enjoy the secretive birds of the region, the guides having staked out multiple nest sites for all the species. Three-toed Woodpecker fell pretty quickly, but Ural Owl took two attempts at different sites. On the plus side it didn't kill or maim us. Pygmy Owl (my fave bird of the trip, so much attitude) was at the first nest hole we tried, but Tengmalm's Owl took three different locations before a nearly fledged chick was found having a look around.
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| Surely the inspiration behind Gonzo |
I could not in good conscience fail to mention a considerable downside to our owl mission, and that is that the insect life within Finnish forests at this time of year can only be described as voracious. Finland is basically one large boggy forest with a shed load of lakes thrown in. This is mosquito heaven. It doesn't matter what counter measures you take - repellents are just a garnish, clothing a slight challenge, and we were eaten alive. To the point where tick and run (literally, run) became the order of the day. It is difficult to choose the worst point, to single out the hungriest. The Three-toed Woodpecker nest hole site probably takes the prize, but the first Ural Owl site (the one without the owl....) was relentless. Almost no part of me was safe, I lost pints. My wrists and hairline were particularly singled out, and by the end of the day they were biting through the previous bites, to the point where when I ran my hand over the back of my neck it felt a bit like bubble-wrap. I've no idea who they liked best, who was especially favoured/savoured, but I'd like to think that the Prof was the tenderest of the three of us and thus the most enjoyed. My bites have mostly declined now, but it was hellish out there. Next time I go I intend to take one of two items - either a full bee-keepers outfit, or a hat with a dozen Pied Flycatchers attached to it with small pieces of string.
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| The Prof enjoying a cup of DEET |
Wednesday, 19 June 2013
Sitting next to a legend
I'll bet Bryan Adams didn't even consider this possibility when he booked a flight to Helsinki last Friday night, but the quiet and unassuming guy sat to my left on the BA flight took it in his stride. He didn't recognise me of course - no bad thing, I like to travel incognito - but we had a nice chat nonetheless about family, photography, and some massive concert he was playing that evening.....
I mean how am I supposed to know what Bryan Adams looks like? Would you? I was in BA Club Class - this happens very infrequently, but by some quirk of the pricing system the seat was twenty quid cheaper than economy. Fair enough, I'll do that then, not the hardest decision I've ever had to make. Oh, and can I have a rock star travelling companion? Certainly Sir. I confess to spending over an hour chatting to him having no idea who he was, and to his credit he didn't blurt it out. He had seen my improbably large camera bag and enquired about what it was that I did (at this point I had no idea he was an award-winning photographer either), so I told him, and so it was only polite to ask what he did. I'm guessing at this point he may have realised I hadn't twigged, but nonetheless he just said he was a musician. Fair enough, so is Mrs L. Except Mrs L hasn't sold gazillions of albums, toured the world, and written the hit song that accompanied Robin Hood Prince of Thieves......
Oh well, never mind. Maybe he enjoyed talking to someone who wasn't immediately in awe of him and asking him to autograph every item on their person and then their forehead for good measure? I have to confess to a) not owning a single Bryan Adams album, and b) being unable, once I realised who he was (mainly due to the stewardess asking Mr ADAMS what he wanted to drink and being suffocatingly deferential), to name a single song of his. Shame, as I could have slipped a few cheeky ones in there. Please forgive me, I didn't recognise you.....
So, over the course of the next hour or so I instead bored him witless with bird chit-chat, and it was only his good fortune that meant I didn't have the Collins on me else that would have come out and been turned to the owl pages. Once the obligatory "I'll be seeing a lot of birds too" line had been rolled out with a wink and a smile - nice to know that Bryan Adams makes the same joke as every other bloke on the planet - we basically had a normal chat about kids and the dumb things they say, crappy airline food, being busy, and selling out stadiums. I also discovered that he'd seen a Snowy Owl in Canada which flew over his car. Anyway, and whether you're a fan of his music or not, he seemed a really nice and surprisingly down to earth guy. I wished him luck in his concert, and as it was pissing down, hoped for him that it was indoors given that it probably wasn't the pub gig I had initially imagined. He in turn hoped for me, given the outdoor nature of my pursuits, that the weather might improve in Oulu. And thus we parted, he to hordes of screaming fans followed by a luxury hotel room, me to a six hours in a rental car followed by extreme sleep deprivation.
I mean how am I supposed to know what Bryan Adams looks like? Would you? I was in BA Club Class - this happens very infrequently, but by some quirk of the pricing system the seat was twenty quid cheaper than economy. Fair enough, I'll do that then, not the hardest decision I've ever had to make. Oh, and can I have a rock star travelling companion? Certainly Sir. I confess to spending over an hour chatting to him having no idea who he was, and to his credit he didn't blurt it out. He had seen my improbably large camera bag and enquired about what it was that I did (at this point I had no idea he was an award-winning photographer either), so I told him, and so it was only polite to ask what he did. I'm guessing at this point he may have realised I hadn't twigged, but nonetheless he just said he was a musician. Fair enough, so is Mrs L. Except Mrs L hasn't sold gazillions of albums, toured the world, and written the hit song that accompanied Robin Hood Prince of Thieves......
Oh well, never mind. Maybe he enjoyed talking to someone who wasn't immediately in awe of him and asking him to autograph every item on their person and then their forehead for good measure? I have to confess to a) not owning a single Bryan Adams album, and b) being unable, once I realised who he was (mainly due to the stewardess asking Mr ADAMS what he wanted to drink and being suffocatingly deferential), to name a single song of his. Shame, as I could have slipped a few cheeky ones in there. Please forgive me, I didn't recognise you.....
So, over the course of the next hour or so I instead bored him witless with bird chit-chat, and it was only his good fortune that meant I didn't have the Collins on me else that would have come out and been turned to the owl pages. Once the obligatory "I'll be seeing a lot of birds too" line had been rolled out with a wink and a smile - nice to know that Bryan Adams makes the same joke as every other bloke on the planet - we basically had a normal chat about kids and the dumb things they say, crappy airline food, being busy, and selling out stadiums. I also discovered that he'd seen a Snowy Owl in Canada which flew over his car. Anyway, and whether you're a fan of his music or not, he seemed a really nice and surprisingly down to earth guy. I wished him luck in his concert, and as it was pissing down, hoped for him that it was indoors given that it probably wasn't the pub gig I had initially imagined. He in turn hoped for me, given the outdoor nature of my pursuits, that the weather might improve in Oulu. And thus we parted, he to hordes of screaming fans followed by a luxury hotel room, me to a six hours in a rental car followed by extreme sleep deprivation.
Tuesday, 18 June 2013
Finland screws you up
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| 3am in Taiga country |
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| Citrine Wagtail. Oulu. Midnight. |
A full (in so far as mine ever are) trip report will follow shortly, but in brief, the Owls have been bagged, and many many bonus species put in an appearance. I have done more birding in three days than I would normally do in a week away, anywhere, and probably spent more hours in the field than I would in Wanstead over the course of any month you care to choose. Intense is not the word. Mental is probably closer. But it was brilliant and yet another of these fab trips that will live long in the memory for reasons beyond birds alone. Star bird, for me at least, was this Pygmy Owl. More personality in 15cm than you can shake a stick at. Right, I am going to bed. I deserve it.
Wednesday, 12 June 2013
Ten things I have learned recently
Ten things I have learned recently.
1) I have more stuff to do than I can possibly get done, and that something will have to give, I'm just not sure what yet.
2) Being intolerant and shouty is almost three times as popular as anything having to do with birding, and four times more popular than my children. Natch.
3) Taking photos is the easy bit, processing them is hard.
4) 16 months of unopened bills and other crap that arrives through the letter box is about two feet high and takes four hours to reduce to about a centimetre.
5) People do not like constructive criticism and would prefer to hear only nice things about the complete and utter dross that they have produced.
6) I am crap at dieting.
7) Roller might have been my 400th bird, not Dusky(ish) Thrush.
8) I should not have sold my 135mm f2 lens.
9) My toe still hurts.
10) Finding things to blog about is next to impossible, but gratuitous photos help.
1) I have more stuff to do than I can possibly get done, and that something will have to give, I'm just not sure what yet.
2) Being intolerant and shouty is almost three times as popular as anything having to do with birding, and four times more popular than my children. Natch.
3) Taking photos is the easy bit, processing them is hard.
4) 16 months of unopened bills and other crap that arrives through the letter box is about two feet high and takes four hours to reduce to about a centimetre.
5) People do not like constructive criticism and would prefer to hear only nice things about the complete and utter dross that they have produced.
6) I am crap at dieting.
7) Roller might have been my 400th bird, not Dusky(ish) Thrush.
8) I should not have sold my 135mm f2 lens.
9) My toe still hurts.
10) Finding things to blog about is next to impossible, but gratuitous photos help.
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