Barren times

It's been a hard week so far.  The weather started out wettish and has gradually turned colder.  There was a Fiat Uno in the ditch by the fen this morning, abandoned in a slow motion nose dive but irretrievably stuck hard.  I can sympathise.

Legs still ache from Friday evening, so the prospect of walking is not an enticing one.  It's also been cold, wet, snowy and really devoid of anything out of the ordinary on the wildlife front.  I know I must rejoice in nature in all its forms, but just a few moments with something that isn't a rook or crow, a blue tit or a great tit, or even the maniacal scraping cackle of the jays, just something to make you get a perspective on it. But so far nothing apart from the briefiest of views of the rear end of a kingfisher (I think, anyway), a grey heron lifting off from the river bank, and the fact that I can now positively id the call of a willow tit.  Or maybe it's a marsh tit. I don't know.

Even the hares aren't playing ball.  I went out at lunch on the way back from Harleston and found a field of 7 or 8, all hunkered down, none of them looking like they had the slightest inclination to move let alone box.

However there've been two significant developments this week.  Firstly (and thanks to Jenny Holmes for posting this link on Facebook) there was an article in The Times from Simon Barnes, one of my heroes, about Suffolk.  I read it and sent a text to Kee: "we've got to move house to the countryside".  Wow, how to put down a sentiment in words that chimes so clearly with me.  I hope this works but all being well there's a link to it here:

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/comment/columnists/simon_barnes/article7007729.ece

So the second thing is that we've decided to move house. Scary.  The house goes on the market next week.  Even writing this I feel unsure about whether we're doing the right thing, but if we don't get on with it we'll never move to our forever house.  I suppose it's because there's no need to change, only an aspiration, so it's us taking the initiative.  But then that's what 2010 has been all about so far - changing habits.  Walking, eating, drinking, writing, photographing, dare I say saving money as well.  So why not make a big change as well?

I spoke to Charlie about moving house.  He's OK with it as long as he can bring his bed and his toy monster truck.  Bless.

So looking for hares at lunch I ended up where I'd seen a buzzard the other week, and sure enough there was a pair circling over the wood.  I pulled over, wound down the window, grabbed the camera and bean bag and lined up one of the pair that was flapping towards me.  Superb, light lovely, coming in close, crane neck to see it, lift camera to eye and (blow what a dashed nuisance) I've left the lens cap on.  hmph.

Further on I saw this pair of deer at the egde of same wood.  Not a great photo but interesting how the (I presume) male has one antler smaller than the other.  Immature or a fighting injury? (click for full size)

Nothing else to see today.  This morning I'd seen a barn owl from the A140 being mobbed by a crow over a snowy field, and the day before I'd seen a barn own at New Buckenham common, but missed the photo op.  Still no barn owl at the fen though.  I keep hoping.

Cold tonight, hopefully the light will be good in the morning.  I'll try the far end of the fen and the woodland back, the legs are going to hurt but all being well that will complete 6 weeks' worth of walking.  Just another 46 to go.....

Oh the weather outside...

...was really pretty miserable, especially as it was Monday morning and I still ached from playing 5 a side on Friday night (special thanks to EDF Energy for cutting off power to the indoor cricket stadium which meant we had no choice but to play footy for 80 mins outside instead - man, do I ache.)

Not a lot doing this morning other than I hadn't seen a forecast, so when it started raining and sleeting in Ashbocking I was a bit puzzled.  Every tenth rain drop seemed to be a big fat snowflake.  But unlike the Big Freeze (sorry) none of this lot settled.

By the time I got to the fen I was feeling about as enthusiastic for a cold wet walk as I was at the prospect of getting out of bed this morning: not a lot.  I wrapped the camera in the detachable hood from my coat with a bungee - manufacturer's recommended method of course - and set off.  Push knee back, throw foot forward, push other knee back, throw other foot forwards.  Not fun.

I wasn't the only one not enjoying the wonderful British weather.  The black sheep in the field by the path out to the far end of the reserve just stood there, taking it, but really looking like they'd rather be elsewhere.  I put a kestrel up and he seemed really miffed that he'd had to leave his warm perch high up in the shelter of a tree.

At the far end I stopped as always on otter bridge (I call it that in hope rather than expectation) and came across this mute swan.

Yes, even the swans were filthy.  He was just paddling about in the ditch that is the River Waveney at this point, all alone.  I stopped and unwrapped the camera to get in position, he turned and paddled towards me.  I could have sworn we exchanged the same thought: 'what are we doing here'.  The water dripping off his beak matched the sleet dripping off the end of my nose.  Still I put the picture in if for no other reason to show what impressive birds swans are, even when dirty.  If only it had been a Bewick's....

Really?

Saw Andy last night.  "Hello mate, has the wife forgiven you for crashing her car yet?" Eh - how did you know about that? "I read your blog".

Really?

It was nice that Kee read it.  Then I got a message from Kathryn in New Zealand that she's read it (actually she sent me a message saying "hmmm, interesting".  I think that means 'there there well done for trying but not sure I'm on your wavelength'.  Not many people are Huish.)  Then there were three thumbs up on Facebook for people saying they liked it.  Then Andy (who can't actually read) said that he liked it.  Blimey.

So look, all I'm going to do is take photos and put them up here for me to see if I should send them to photobox to print and put on the wall in my office to get me through the working day - call me silly but I'd rather look at a picture of an animal than a light industrial unit.  I wrote some words because I fancied it, and now I'm sat here thinking gosh someone might actually read this.  Scary thought.

Rain this morning, quelle surprise, but not cold.  Having been out for a couple of pints of Southwold's finest (yes, I'll check my bra size as it was my first pint of 2010) - by the way don't go to Pals on a Wednesday night, it's gash and full of blokes looking for women, so why did we go there - it left its mark on me the following morning.  Ain't nothing like fresh air to wake you up in the morning, and that car was nothing like fresh air...

Not a lot out there first thing.  Went down through the wood by Great Fen, a muntjac bounded away through the trees in front of me, a roe deer sprinted away, sprinted back, leapt in the air, hid behind a tree, panicked, turned round and ran away again.  The breakfast club were at the far end of the cricket bat willows as usual, and the river was quiet.  Still no bleeping barn owl, even though I can visualise the photo every time I walk up the bank of the river towards its field.  I know full well I'll see it when I least expect it but even so I always like to think it will be there floating across the meadow with the mist rising and its round face swivelling as it holds its stare on a mouse or vole.  Have you ever noticed how barn owls fly like they're suspended on a length of gossamer, sort of bouncing but quick-turning, silent assassins of the dawn.

Back at the visitors centre there were suet balls in the feeder.  The long tails were going mad for it (again), but me being fussy the light was nothing compared to Monday so I opted to try and get the willow tits feeding instead.  Noisy little sods they are, a really piercing call, almost loud like a Cetti's warbler, but purposefully hopping from sapling to fence to woodland floor, finding a cobnut and flitting off again.  A pair of them were working a patch of oak leaves, digging over for any hidden morsels.  As I say the light was really weak, down to 1/15, so I lowered the tripod to just above ground level and tried to get a more intimate angle on them.  I pre-focused on a spot and kept one eye on the viewfinder and one eye open to clock them as they came down.  This was the best of the shots (click to open)

No doubt someone somewhere will see this one day and tell me it's actually a marsh tit, but for now I'll call it a willow tit.

So if you're reading this, thank you.  Not sure what I'm thanking you for, and it's a bit odd and I feel self-conscious saying it when I don't know who I'm talking to.  But thank you for taking the time.  The daft thing is I don't actually know what's motivating me to write a blog, but I'm finding it very relaxing.

Fresh air and welly boots.  You can't beat it.

Meatloaf got it right

Two out of three ain't bad.  Weather that is for two of the first three days of February.  And as a Brucie Bonus I saw and photographed for the first time this little chap, a goldcrest (again, click on the images for full size)

As I set off I saw a couple of tiny birds flitting around in a bramble bush.  They were wren-sized but clearly not, if for no other reason than they weren't screeching at me with tails at ten. Instead they were fluffed up hopping about minding their own business, busying themselves with keeping warm.  I just stood and waited for a window.  This was the only shot I got so I'm quite pleased I could id it.

It was one of those East Anglian big sky mornings, the sort that non-Anglians don't understand when you try to explain the concept of 'big sky'.  The sunrise was pale washed in cold water with pastel orange and pink streaks. As I drove towards Fynn Valley I thought I ought to pull over in that lay by, then when I got to the top of America Hill in Witnesham, then at Ashobocking, then....you get the idea: I didn't stop and take a photo.  doh.

At the fen the gates were locked (again).  I chatted to the assistant warden the other morning and he told me kids had been messing about overnight, so they had to lock up even thought they hated doing it.  It added up now why I'd found an empty can of stella down by the Waveney.  Beats me why you'd walk half a mile to sit in the middle of a nature reserve in the freezing cold at night. Clearly I missed out as a child.

Anyway it was another properly cold morning, so that the metal gates were frozen to the wooden posts.  Crunchy underfoot so no good for creeping up on things.  In the woods on the way towards the far end of the reserve I stopped at the kissing gate as a flock of long tails skipped through the trees above me.  Then, in pretty much the same place I'd seen it the first time, a little brown treecreeper shimmied round the trunk of an oak tree in front of me.  This time I managed to at least get a vaguely stationary shot so you can see it's a treecreeper, but all the same I can see this is going to be my nemesis

Sorry about the bright white background, it nearly blew out on me as i was down to 1/30th at ISO 800.  Eeesh.

The light was crisp and clear so I stopped by the reedbeds on the way in, thinking (hoping?) I'd heard bearded tits.  No joy though, so back to the car.

At lunch I went back to the 100th BG hare field.  Five of them in the arable field but just sat hunkered down in the sun looking like, well, hunkered down hares in a field.  I drove on, aiming to get lost and see what I'd find.  Towards Thelverton I noticed what looked like a rook but it was the wrong shape, poised on the ground at the edge of an arable field. Hang on isn't that a?  Turn car round, sidle up to a gap in the hedge but whoosh whoosh whoosh it takes off.  A buzzard, keeaw-ing as it went.  Who'd have thought.

So no hares but a good day to be alive.  Gotta love the great outdoors.

Light Fantastic

This was how 1 February looked at 7.30am.  Stunning. (click on the images for full frame - I haven't yet worked out how to properly post photos).

Today was going to be a shorter walk than usual.  Light like this was too good to miss.

When I got back to the visitor centre the long tailed tits had just woken up.  They descended on the feeder and the bird table as if they hadn't eaten in a week.

At one point I counted nine.  A pair sat away to the side watching the feast.

They were joined by a marsh tit hopping in the bough of a nearby oak tree

The light was gorgeous. Shame I didn't do it justice.

That afternoon I had an appointment in Bungay, just up the Waveney valley.  I decided to have lunch with the camera and go looking for hares.  I didn't have to look far.  I spotted some boxing in a ploughed field right next to the A143 and turned off on a side road signposted to the 100th BG memorial.  Spun the car round and parked it up the bank and found a window of sorts between some straggly hedge whippets.  The hares didn't seem fussed.  They stopped boxing but ran around like loons and came within 20 feet of the car.

What is it about hares?  They're in some way mystical, reminding me of summer solstace and all those earth gods that pagans used to worship.  To the uninitiated they look like big bunnies, but they couldn't be more different.  Alluring.  Evocative.  Expressive.  Nuts.

This one sprinted across the field then stopped dead for no apparent reason, other than he could.  They'll sit there sunning themselves, minding their own business, for ten, twenty minutes then without warning pick a fight with the nearest hare.  I watched one male chase a female round and round and round, weaving and jinxing as though they had an invisible bungee strap between them, for a good five minutes.  He really didn't get the message.

It's my project of winter/spring 2010 to get a photo of boxing hares for Kee.  She loves them, I think that's where my fascination with them comes from.  Come to think of it there are a lot of similarities from my description of them...

It was only when I downloaded the camera yesterday that I discovered a photo I'd taken at the end of January, last Friday.  I'd been for a walk as usual, and being a cold damp morning there really wasn't much to see.  When I got to the far end of the fen the geese were just lifting off for the morning.  I took one photo, as much because I thought I ought to, and gave it no more thought.

I'm realy chuffed with it.  It's said you shouldn't avoid bad weather as you never know what opportunities will come your way.  I wish I could say I planned this shot, but unfortunately it was a case of honk, tripod down, unlock camera, focus, click, gone.  Happy days.