Just got back from Cornwall after a rather cool sea-watch. As always I'd been watching the forecast closely, and decided on Friday that it would definitely be worth it. The standard overnight drive down to Porthgwarra seemed to be quicker than usual, and so Steve, William, Nick and I were up on the cliffs for dawn, as were loads of other people, some of whom had also travelled a long way. Rather worryingly we could see Scilly with bins, but it soon clouded over, and indeed gave us a good soaking. Several soakings, to the point where I was actually soaked through, waterproofs having been completely overwhelmed. Double figures of Great Shearwater, I estimate I personally saw somewhere between 12 and 15, five or so Cory's, and a good supporting cast of Stormies, Sooties and various other birds I rarely get to see. Maybe my sea-watching expectations are high these days, but I felt a bit like we had been slightly robbed, that there hadn't been a big one. Nevermind, there was always the next day, and with the winds shifting, Pendeen was the spot.
We arrived at Pendeen slightly late, having slept longer than intended. No sleep on Friday night and a few pints at the Tinner's Arms in Zennor probably had something to do with it. The sea-watching was pretty slow, so I went down to the rocks to photograph Gannets for a bit. Quite a few came between me and the rocks which was pretty good, and so after a bit of fun with the camera I returned up to the watchpoint to discover most people had left! Very odd, but there you go, I guess when there are no monster seabirds going past, people do get a bit jaded. We stuck around for a bit and then tried our luck at Cape Cornwall. Nothing doing there really, so a long drive back to London beckoned. A knackering weekend, but always good value. One of these days we'll really score I expect, but although we saw some great birds this trip, we felt that there was something slightly lacking as despite the weather charts looking very tasty, we didn't really come close to the biggie.
Have you got a Twitter account? I do. It's called @Wansteadbirder and I use it when I have nothing to say. 99.99% of Twitter users have nothing to say, and so 99.99% of tweets (the output of Twitter) are mindless irrelevances. You can see why I like it. I was not an early adopter, and I can't remember when I finally took the plunge, but to date I've somehow uttered nearly 5,500 snippets of 140 characters of tedium. I can scarcely believe it. I intended it to be a kind of micro-blogging site where I would churn out little missives that weren't really suitable or expandable enough for a full-blown blog post. Thoughts as they occurred to me, thoughts that the wider world couldn't possible live without knowing, witty observations, that kind of thing. This I did for a while, and then I realised it could be used to transmit boring bird news, news that very few people actually cared about. Perfect, an ideal use of Twitter, and so I started up @Wansteadbirding and started sending out messages about local bits and pieces that were of interest to ten people. Win. I even shared the password, and so now Nick and a few others also send out bird messages. Don't go thinking it's me out there on the patch! Tchah, as if! So far so good, lots more web pollution, and loads of bytes wasted forever.
This happy state of affairs continued for perhaps a couple of years, during which I amassed almost millions of followers, each keener than the next for the latest piece of drivel. Then I discovered Twitpic and other derivatives - hurrah! In addition to being to post snippets of useless text, silly photos can now go up, vans that look a bit like the A-Team van but not really, hot-off-the-press twitching scores, kids, cakes, frivolous nonsense. My life was complete, here was the perfect medium for tedium.
But now Twitter is getting a bit serious. It's used by conservationists to promote petitions against the Badger Cull, to highlight the plight of Hen Harriers, to show the slaughter of birds in north Africa and elsewhere. Keen birders have discovered that politicians and various organisations also have Twitter accounts, and it becomes merciless. Now I don't for one second believe that our beloved Environment Minister reads his Twitter account, why would he, but if you read what people send him it's quite easy to gauge what people think. And above all it's fast. It mobilises support instantly, no swelling of meetings in village halls gradually leading to national marches, it's just bang, and you have a campaign there and then. Links are shared to e-petitions that the government can ignore. Email addresses of certain ne'er-do-wells are shared. The concept of hashtags, essentially allowing grouping of messages under one topic heading, makes it incredibly easy. Look for the #HenHarrier tag and you'll see what I mean. And it's very effective, or at least it would be if we were living in a democracy.
Happily it isn't all serious. In fact mostly none of it is serious - this is good, Twitter is one of the last places you want to be depressed, and I need some trivia in my life. A very happy half hour was spent last week trying to invent birding-related TV shows following spotting a tweet from someone I follow over on the right, BaldMonkeySeenABird. It was kind of like I'm Sorry I haven't a Clue, which itself got changed to I'm Sorry I haven't a Curlew. My favourite was I'm Alan Pheasant, but I fear Monty Pygargus Flying Circus fell on deaf ears, however much it amused me.
They have struck. Are striking. Will continue to strike. Jeez I love holidays. Other than birding the patch, ahem, they're the best thing ever. However yesterday's eleven hour day in the mines banished all thoughts, all memories, all recollections of what was a fabulous time away. It is amazing how quickly it fades. My boss described me today as being in post-holiday shock, and which looking at my three page to-do list (none of it involving relaxing or having a good time) I can well believe. Apparently I have been very quiet, a sure sign, she says, of stress. She is probably right, the last couple of days have been intense. The happy news is that as of that eleven hour day on Monday, I was once again a permanent employee. Pensions, holiday rights, healthcare, and an opt out from the 48 hour European Working Time Directive. Oh yes, I am back. This is no mean feat I will have you know. My chosen sector is not an easy one to get into, especially after time away. So despite my grumblings, I am quietly pleased to have managed to get back in. I am a conservative and sensible person, a full-time job is a must have, and I always felt slightly uncomfortable being a contractor.
I am of course back at the same institution that dispensed with me some four years ago. I had just started this blog, which I hope was unrelated. A short while later, the news came and I was one of those people you read about in the papers, stood outside a shiny building with a cardboard box in my arms. I faced the future with aplomb, of course, and threw myself into the job of becoming a full-time domestic goddess. I became amazing at this, by my reckoning. By Mrs L's reckoning, I just about scraped average some weeks. It did make for better blogging than when working of course, and in the two years I had away from a career I put in the groundwork to become a better photographer. So in 2009 you got a load of crap, which at the time I felt was stunning, whereas now you get this, which in a couple of years I may well also dismiss as total crap, but which currently, and humbly, I think is pretty good.
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| Such a beautiful gull |
You also got domestic poetry. How long has is been since I was this creative? And of course, blue sky thinking, with clarity of thought that remains as true today as it was then. Re-reading some of these posts with yesterday's news in mind, it is clear that I am very weak and, at the time, somewhat unrealistic. Never go on the central line again? Ever?! Pah - I am a total idiot! And how much gardening did I do? Precisely none, and the garden only got sorted out when I returned to work and hired a gardener. Many of the things about birding were true though. So, there you have it, I am back.
Of course, I've been back for a long time. Back on the central line almost two years ago in fact. Nothing actually changed yesterday, it is purely symbolic. But it's still interesting to go back and read my incredibly naive posts from a time when my life was moving in exactly the opposite direction, and see what I felt about it then. Was it a peak, or a trough?! How will I ever know? Hah! I think I know well enough, and the fact remains that the two years I spent not working are right up there as amongst the two best years of my life. I probably didn't make the most of them, certainly not in terms of changing direction, but then I am very very lazy deep down. But I did have a fab time with my kids who at the time were small and appreciative of daddy being at home. Look how big they are now!!
Life moves on, and my holiday is over.
Ah, home sweet home. A slightly torturous journey with the call to the meet-and-greet airport car parking resulting not in "We'll have the car there for you in ten minutes" but instead "Sir, there's a problem, we can't start your car...." The jury is out in terms of what happened, though my money is firmly on somebody who was looking after our car leaving some lights on.... The AA came very quickly and sorted us out in about an hour, but it wasn't the nice and smooth trip we were expecting unfortunately. Still, we're back now, and all is mostly well. I've had almost no chance to sort out anything other than prepare for work tomorrow morning, but I have made some time for a very special Gull. Despite my lethargy, I did manage to get out and find a few of the resident Audouin's Gulls. The window was very slim - you get about half an hour of light before the beach becomes too busy with joggers etc and the birds bugger off back out to sea - but I managed a few pleasing ones. I actually tried twice, but by the time I arrived the second time the birds were sat out on the rocks and the bread I threw at them was eaten by fish without a modicum of interest from the targets. Hey ho. So, lots of sunbathing and the like, but amazingly three WP ticks - Eleonora's Falcon, Moustached Warbler, and Red-knobbed Coot. The latter may well be an introduction if my BWP is to be believed, but hey, so is White-tailed Eagle and Crane, so who cares.
If you want to see any more photos from Mallorca, click here, as I'll gradually be adding a few. Not many though, as I was extremely and vastly lazy.
I never knew I was so good at doing nothing. There have been hints, rumours, periods of mild inactivity, but never to the extent that is now occurring. Or not occurring. Very unusually I'm on holiday, but this is a different kind of holiday. A doing nothing holiday. A sitting round the pool holiday. A frittering, sploshing, splashing, flopping kind of holiday. I didn't think I could cope with so little, but it turns out I have hidden talent. Normally my holidays involve harsh weather, vaguely inhospitable places, being reasonably far from the beaten track, and typically quite far from other people. As I type this from the poolside in Majorca, there are about 300 other happy people in very close proximity. Many of them are very small, and are making more noise than you can possibly imagine. Three of them belong to me, for this is that rare event, a family package holiday. Almost Costa del, but not quite, despite the beer being on free vend. The hotel is fantastic, and not just because of the beer, or the two mythical words "kids" and "club" - it's pretty much a perfect set-up for families, from the size and shape of the pool, to the rooms, to the variety of food on offer, and of course the activities. I am aware that this makes me sound like a boring 38 year old trip-adviser user. Oh.....
We've been here since Sunday afternoon, and our list of achievements is as short as it is glorious. This is patently the way it should be. I normally come back from holidays more tired than when I left, generally flying straight in to my desk. My children have a huge love of water, in fact I'm quite at home in it as well. Did I hear someone say Minke? Family holidays have up until this point mostly involved Scotland, and thus warm water is out of the question. Here however we can stay in all day, and largely this is exactly what we have done. Everything we need is here (except birds), and so there is very little need to go anywhere else. Mrs L developed mild cabin fever on day three, so we took a little drive out to Cap Formentor - a lighthouse with stonking views at the end of a rocky and extremely steep peninsula. The road terrified her so much that she is now quite content to sit around the pool for the duration. Pilates and aquaerobics are definitely on the agenda, I just have to work out what to tell the hire company about the gouge marks in the sides of the passenger seat. OK, so it was a bit windy, and she was on the outer edge for half of it, but with me at the wheel what could possibly go wrong, and with the promise of Cory's Shearwater and Eleanora's Falcon at the end you would have thought that she might have coped better.
Both species were present, but at some range. Perfectly identifiable though, including decent-enough views of the underwings to confirm that these were indeed the Scopoli's race of Cory's Shearwater. Interesting to watch them both from above - the lighthouse is perched a couple of hundred metres above sea-level - sheer cliffs on one side enable you to see birds cruising past below you. Other than this one outing, I've left the hotel once. We're staying quite near to Albufera National Park, a rather special wetland area. I nipped out one evening for a quick wander - Stone Curlews, Night Herons, loads of traditional waders, and Spotted Flycatchers everywhere. I've been meaning to go back but lethargy has taken over. I did bring bins and a modest amount of photographic equipment, but I'm finding that I'd much rather be sat with my toes in the water with a cold beer in my hand, than schlepping the 500mm round in searing heat. After all I do an awful lot of the latter, and very little of the former. At home there is always something that needs doing, and rarely will you find me sat on my ample backside doing nothing. Here there is nothing to do, and for the first time in a long while I do not have a to-do list. Before I came I harboured vague ambitions of photographing Audouin's Gulls on the beach, but every time I start thinking about it I'm finding it to be sounding far too much like hard work, and so I'm still sat at the hotel and it's now Thursday, time nearly up. I may yet get round to it, but don't count on it. Anyway, this holiday is about the kids. Sure, I need a holiday, but I'd choose birding somewhere (as I frequently do). This is about them - a family-friendly hotel in a popular destination. Pool, sun, chips and pizza. Lots of ice cream. Lots of other kids, gangs, friendships. No romances yet, they're all still too little, but give them a few years. You can see it already - there are plenty of families here with slightly older kids; massively self-conscious teenagers, gruff fathers. That'll be me in a few years. My youngest, and chief consumer of pizza and chips in the face of heaps of fresh seafood and salads, has been admiring the many and varied tattoos on offer. Another challenge I expect to have to face down the line. Maybe I'll get one too...
I am back in the mix! It's autumn again! Waders coming thick and fast, monster seabirds off distant headlands, it's all hotting up, including in London where today it was 34 degrees today! Not that I got to enjoy any of it of course, things are 100% back to normal where I work, and the days pass without a sniff of the outdoors! Fact of life, get over it and get on with it! And that's what I do - however the weekend is just around the corner, and I am very much looking forward to it, especially as it will be the first weekend since discovering I knew very little about my lens that I will be able to pick it up again and potentially do some damage with it. Hooray! This is what it is all about - work hard play hard. Of course I envy those who just get to play, and they're not all children!
Two exciting things have just happened. Firstly is that I am busting to go seawatching, and so have booked up a flight over to Ireland for the Bridges of Ross - always been wanting to do that. Secondly is that Mrs L has agreed, in principle, to come to Morocco with me. When I was there earlier this year Marrakech didn't get a look in - we were in the 4x4 and over the mountains before you could say Jemaa-el-Fnaa. Hopefully with a repeat trip based solely around the visiting the city, the birds will stay distant enough for me to actually have a look around, haggle for some tourist tat, and drink mint tea.
There is of course more excitement, closer excitement, and that is in the form of birds, especially birds I've not seen on patch this year. For starters Gulls are beginning to appear, and whilst I hesitate to say that they're truly exciting (large dollops of Gull rarely are), the thought of picking through them in numbers and extracting a Yellow-legger or a Med or something equally sought after is relatively appealing after not having looked at Gulls for several months. Spotted Flycatchers could make an appearance too, but really it's all about Waders. August is the month for the biggies. Common Sand fell just a couple of days ago, hardly a biggie but a start, and I am eager for more. Wood Sand is on the cards (seen two over the years), but the ones I really want are Godwits or Whimbrel. And I have a plan to get them, which is very cunning and essentially involves following Dan wherever he goes. Can't fail.
