I’m just starting to believe that Spring is about to unfold. The excitement is palpable. It’s putting a bit of bounce into everyone’s step.
Stone the crows? I wouldn’t dream of it personally.
It’s a phrase you don’t hear very often, its origins are unclear
"What I says is crows is devils." Tom pointed at the trees, where the blue-black legions sat squabbling and blinking their wicked white eyes. …
I came across these handsome birds, in a car park in Wales (we got about a bit last week!). Hopelessly back lit and mooching about, in and out of the shadows, they kept me entertained whilst trying to eat my sandwich in the car. I did a lot of that last week too.
Can I encourage you to pop across to dou dou’s site and take a look at the beautiful birds there?
Coast path nr Prawle Point, South Devon
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune–without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
Perhaps a photo of a swallow, swift or wren may have been a daintier bird to balance the poem, but we have a bird equality policy on this blog, all birds are equal.
Just what a summer holiday should be, 2012 has been a vintage year.
Joe and I are back home now, Mr Uphilldowndale and Tom are down in Weymouth staying with BiL my brother-in- law and SiL, my soon to be sister- in- law, where they are woohooing the Olympic sailors on towards gold.
I’ve enough images in stock to keep they summer feel running for a blogging week or two (whilst I wade through laundry and return to the world of work).
Tomorrow a special edition of Spud on Sunday, from Mrs Ogg.
Spud the dog would like to apologise for his lack of appearance this evening. This was due in part to the pleasure of my friend Joss ringing up for a nice long natter (we are rarely ladies who lunch, a phone call has to suffice) … suddenly it’s 10pm and not a post written. Ahh well.
I think instead we’ll report the status of the daisy-belle chicken (Spud has an appointment at the dog groomers this week, he promises to ‘make an entrance’ and ‘strike a pose’ next Sunday.)
The daisy-belle you might remember went broody some weeks ago; it is still resolutely sitting in the old washing up bowl in the barn in a sort of broody stupor come semi hibernation sort of mode. The blue-belle actually sits on top of the daisy-belle to lay her egg as it refuses to budge out of the favoured laying place. All we end up with is an egg broken under the weight of two chickens.
The swallows that were nesting in the barn have fledged, this year five chicks, with no Darcy or Dandy to decimate. The swallow chicks are roosting on a roof timber directly above the broody daisy-bell. They do exactly what the young of most species do… they poo indiscriminately. All over the daisy-belle. She flinches not. She is a strange old bird.
It has been a very odd mix this week, lashing rain, sultry heat, high winds that have dumped a fine layer of sand over the car (and even the lily pads in the pond) goodness know from whence it came.
Yesterday evening I was pottering around the hills south of Buxton, it was warm and rather pleasant. I don’t know who this little bird is (answers on a postcard please) but they were rather sweet and willing to pose briefly.
Tom has been in the Lake District completing the expedition section of the Gold Duke of Edinburgh Award. I’m much relived that he is safely off the hill, given the storms and flash flood there have been (he tells me the thunder and lightening they experienced was ‘awesome’ I’m sure we will get the finer detail on his return this afternoon).
I’ve a stack of posts in mind, some of them about quarrying, some about the limestone and gritstone landscape around here.
For starters, the lay of the land. Quarrying is big, it’s a big employer, it has a big impact on the landscape, lumps of rock on an industrial scale..
Half a hill, near Harpur Hill
(and if you are looking for the so called ‘Blue Lagoon’ don’t) go to Iceland please.
The Green Man with a contemporary flourish.
A lost pair of sunglasses could not have been placed in a more prominent position. I think he looks a little like Simon Cowell from this angle.
I’m left wondering if it was just serendipity that the glasses were placed so well or if the finder was on a mission to find just the right branch to perch them on.
There is often something to catch the eye on this part of my route to work. The trees cling on to the side of a steep gully
with every last root at their disposal.
It is where I’ve seen the brawling wrens in the past, today there were violets to admire.
I really can’t grumble about my commute to work.
Here is a Green Man blog, with some very nice photographs, very nice indeed.
At twenty past six this evening I saw my first bat of the season, I had to do a double take as the birds were still flittering around, but a bat it was, probably a Common pipistrelle, with its looping flight pattern . I like bats.
Yesterday I spotted my first bumble bee of the season and today a wasp. Spring is on the move.
I glanced out of the lounge window at first light this morning and caught sight of the lesser spotted bed head bird.
Plumped up for maximum warmth ( it was -4.6c) and looking a little dishevelled I think it’s a Mistle thrush (or could it be a Song thrush?) it was having a spot of trouble with an irritating itch behind the ear
Its pal had moved on from ablutions to breakfast, and was finishing off the berries on the cotoneaster bush.
Another garden visitor has been a little less willing to pose for photographs, yesterday under the apple tree, feasting on the remaining apples that Spud has yet to bring indoor and smear on the lounge carpet a bird I think is Fieldfare
I think there is a mixed flock of Fieldfare and Redwings, up in the top fields
Nothing here this afternoon looks as sunny and bright as in those last two shots, as at the moment we are in the midst of a snow storm. I filled the bird feeders about midday just as the snow started and the birds have stayed away, but now, just before dusk there is a flurry of activity, as they stock up on much needed calories for the night. Sleep tight little birds.