February’s been hard on a heart

Candlemas Day used to have great significance in the rural calendar because the date lies halfway between the winter solstice and the spring equinox, so it marked the day upon which winter was half over. It was a time of the year which naturally formed a transition period in winter, a sense we were moving on into brighter and better days.

An ancient Scottish rhyme :

If Candlemas day be dry and fair, the half o’ winter to come and mair

If Candlemas’s day be wet and foul, The half o’ winter gane at Yule

It meant that if it was nice on Candlemas Day, 6 more weeks of yucky, winter weather was on the way. If it wasn’t nice on Candlemas Day, the weather should get nicer. A sort of Catch 22 weather. This photograph was taken on that day. Be afraid…be very afraid

Around the university grounds, pockets of Snowdrops were popping here and there. They were known as Candlemas Lilies and Candlemas Bells and a welcome assurance that the brighter days of spring were on their way. In the language of flowers, the Snowdrop was synonymous with ‘hope’ as it bloomed in early springtime, just before the vernal equinox, and seen as heralding the new spring and new year. In British folklore, they symbolised hope and purity. But the bulbs were poisonous which led to the superstition that a single bloom in a house represented death.

We made another visit to Longford Community Nature to see what the Ring-necked or Rose-ringed parakeets were up to. Thankfully, it turned out to be a sunny day and we hoped they would be out in the open. We headed straight to their patch on the Weeping Willow with the branches drooping over the River Sowe. These deciduous tree were often found near lakes and ponds and planted in parks and gardens due to their ornamental morphology. Raindrops that were falling to the ground from the drooping branches resembled tears and that was how the tree got its name.

Their shrill screeching calls gave away their presence.  We looked up and they were chilling out deep among the twisted branches and twigs which was void of leaves. Again, they were playing hide-and-seek with us and when they found out that we weren’t going anyway, came out to play. From our observations and reading, we think that this family consisted of 2 adults and 2 juveniles. The male developed a thin black ring round his neck which ran from his throat, becoming thinner on the sides of the neck where it ran into a light coloured collar on the nape of his neck. The ring developed by about 17 months old and the male was usually sexually mature by age 3, a year later than the female.

The female and juveniles either showed no neck rings, or display shadow-like pale to dark grey neck rings. Bedecked with emerald green feathers and rose-red beak, the family brought a touch of tropical glamour to the park. One was seen speeding through the skies with its stream-lined body, pointed wings and long tail, so graceful and elegant in a brilliant green whirl. It was magnificent in flight. Unfortunately, it was just too fast to photograph.

Yellow catkins were appearing on the trees and in spring, the twigs and branches will be covered with the lance-shaped leaves. These catkins were important for producing an early source of nectar and pollen for bees and insects and we saw the Parakeets feeding on them. They also fed on a variety of fruits, berries, nuts, seeds, grains and household scraps. I am sure they were frequent visitors to the bird tables and garden feeders from the houses that bordered the park.

Native to Africa and Asia, Ring-necked parakeets were now thought to have one of the fastest-growing bird populations in the UK, estimated to more than 32K individuals at the end of the breeding season. These free-living parakeets were descended from multiple large releases into the wild, leading to a genetically healthy population with rapid growth rates. They evolved to tolerate a cold niche due to their ancestral origins in Northern India and was believed to have the potential to be ‘the grey squirrels of the skies.’This was because the mushrooming numbers might displaced other hole nesting birds such as the woodpeckers and nuthatches.

We also popped over to our favourite playground when we found out that flocks of Bullfinches were feeding on the seeds from the dried heads of the Buddleia flowers. In summer, with its purple, golden-eyed flowers full of fragrant glory and was a butterfly and bee paradise as they were an important nectar source. No other plant was such a magnet to them. We had photographed Tortoiseshells. Peacocks, Red Admirals, Whites, Brimstone and other species feasting on them. Buddleias provided nectar and pollen to bees and other insects. On warm nights, moths took their turn. And now, in deep winter, it was the turn of the Bullfinches. What a versatile plant. We’d 3 in our garden and they were always bedecked with glorious blossoms, butterflies and buzzing bees. Let’s raise a glass to the 17th century botanist and Essex clergyman after whom the shrub was named, the Reverend Adam Buddle.

Bullfinches were striking birds. The name was said to describe the bull-like appearance with their compact, neckless body and short, deep bill. In Victorian times, they were desired captive birds due to their beautiful plumage and calls. It was believed that the caged bird could be trained to mimic music and it became a popular pastime to play a special flute to the birds. Their call note was a low, piping ‘deu-deu’, while the song was highly variable, quiet in nature and audible at short distances and was often described as ‘mournful’.

The male Bullfinch was unmistakable with his bright pinkish-red breast and cheeks, grey back, black cap and tail with a bright white rump. The female had a brown back and pinkish-fawn underparts. They formed strong, lasting pair bonds and it was usual to see them in pairs all year round. In winter, the resident population was joined by ‘northern’ bullfinches from northern Europe. This pair were feeding voraciously on the seed-heads and because of their huge appetite were once ‘a pest’ of fruit crops.

We were surprised not to see any Robins harassing us for food when we walked along the path. Perhaps the weather was much better and there were plenty of food around. But we saw one who was busy singing. The sound of a Robin chirping in winter was a good sign. It meant the bird had built up enough fat reserves to survive the cold nights and had enough energy left to defend its territory. Robins traditionally sings in spring to attract a mate, but in winter, when food was short, it faced a dilemma. Should it spent its time hunting for food to get through the next cold snap or burst into a song? Choices…choices. We helped by leaving a large mound of mealworms on the ground.

We made a pit stop at Baldwin Hide but there was nothing much about. As soon as we got out the door, a family of Long-tailed tits had just landed on the tree near the hide. We watched this cute bundle of fur showing off its acrobatic skills as it gleaned invertebrates from the branches and from under the leaves. The tail was the most remarkable feature of this very tiny bird, and accounted for more than half of its total length. During its short, undulating flights, the tail dipped up and down. The flock moved in rapid surges through the tree in restless waves.

At East Marsh Hide, a pair of Gadwall was swimming quite close to the hide. They were grey-coloured with an obvious black rear end. When seen close up, the grey colour was made up of exquisitely fine barring and speckling. As a dabbling duck, they fed mainly on emergent and submergent vegetation which they gathered by surface-feeding and ‘up-ending’ to strip the greenery from the shallow water. Since such plant material was nutrient poor, they needed to eat vast amounts of it for sustenance.

We scanned the Wigeon banks hoping to see the pair of Muntjac that Babe had seen earlier in the week. As usual, they didn’t get the memo. Muntjacs, also known as barking deer and Mastreani deer, originated in South-east Asia but was introduced to Woburn in Bedfordshire in 1900. Many escaped from their private estates and were now well-established where they colonised woodland and dense scrubland. Active by day or night, they were mostly seen at dusk. They uttered loud barks over prolonged periods and equally loudly distress calls. They were mainly solitary animals but may be seen in family groups.

The males, or bucks, had short backward curving antlers which were shed in May and June and re-grown to full size by October or November. These were not used as weapons, but instead the elongated, protruding tusk-like teeth were used. Females don’t have antlers or the elongated teeth. They had a hunched posture due to haunches being higher than their withers. Both sexes had black scent glands under both eyes and a large characteristic tail which was held upright when they were startled revealing a white underside.

This year for the first time since 1945, Valentine’s Day and Ash Wednesday fell on the same date. I guess many Christians had faced a dilemma as they tried to reconcile their faith with the traditional celebrations of romantic love. How exactly do you observe Valentine’s Day on the day Lent began, marking the season of atonement leading up to Easter? Could you be a believer and still celebrated with champagne and chocolate, the indulgent mainstays of Valentine’s Day??? It wasn’t a dilemma for us. We don’t celebrate Valentine in a big way but still exchanged cards. It was good to remind your significant other that you loved them.

“The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love  and be loved in return,”

~Eden Ahbez ‘Nature Boy’~

I ended February with the dreaded lurgy. I was so proud that I didn’t catch anything so far when everyone around me was down with something. I coughed for Britain and I think I had woken up the neighbourhood with my persistent coughing. My nose was winning the running race. My constant companions were the hot water bottle, cough syrup, boxes of tissues, Vicks vapour rub and Paracetamol. I took 3 days off work to recover and rest. Resting had allowed the body to focus all of its energy on overcoming the virus.

January floated down like white coracles

There were warnings that Storm Dylan, the last named storm of 2017, was going to disrupt the new year celebrations. The latest storm came after freezing temperatures, heavy snow, rain and wind caused disruption during the Xmas break. But despite the squally start, the worst of the weather cleared by the time people headed out to see in the new year. As usual,  our neighbours put up some fantastic firework display as soon as the clock struck 12 pm. We wrapped up warm as fireworks boomed and crackled above our heads.

Only a night from old to new!
Only a night, and so much wrought!
The Old Year's heart all weary grew,
But said: "The New Year rest has brought."

The Old Year's hopes its heart laid down,
As in a grave; but, trusting, said:
"The blossoms of the New Year's crown
Bloom from the ashes of the dead."

The Old Year's heart was full of greed;
With selfishness it longed and ached,
And cried: "I have not half I need.
My thirst is bitter and unslaked.

~Helen Hunt Jackson ‘New Year’s morning~

We started the new year with another trip to Draycote Waters to touch base with the long staying Hawfinch. When we arrived, there were a few photographers wandering about in the vicinity which was always a good sign. More pairs of eyes were welcome. I sat down on the nearby bench scanning the bushes and checking out the Hornbeam tree. Dunnocks and Robins were feeding on the bird-seeds scattered under the tree.  Chaffinches with their distinct wing bars were flying in and out of the Hornbeam tree. Suddenly, there was a shout and everyone’s lens were focused on something above my head. I slowly looked up and the piece de resistance was perched on a branch above me. I dared not moved.

From my (dis)advantage point, I’d a very close-up view of this very striking bird. At roughly 18 cm long, it was twice the size of the Chaffinch. It had orange-gold feathers on the head which was complemented by a duller brown on its back and a softer grey-brown on its belly. At the tip of the secondary wing feather was an iridescent black. But the most striking feature was that its head was unusually big for its body, giving it a prehistoric, top-heavy look. This was to accommodate a huge massive, powerful beak that was remarkably strong. The hefty beak powered by strong jaw muscles exerted pressures that made cracking cherry pips and olive stones a cinch.

The remarkable and rare invasion of these birds, which was the UK’s largest, rarest and most elusive finch, had been attributed to poor seed crop yields in their winter feeding grounds of Germany and Romania. They enjoyed a near-mythical status among bird-watchers, since they were the hardest of all British birds to spot as they tended to spent their time hidden in the forest canopy. They were true arboreal birds, spending their lives in mature woodland out of sight of our casual glances.

It was a very special experience to have seen this very shy bird, and one not likely to be repeated any time soon. The last time such significant numbers of Hawfinch irrupted into Britain was over a decade ago, so this was far from a regular occurrence. The RSPB described it as ‘once-in-a-lifetime encounter’  and I am chuffed to have seen it very near to where we lived before they returned to the continent. After posing for the photographers, it flew into the Hornbeam tree and stayed hidden. I took the opportunity to nip over to the ladies and saw this flock of Egyptian geese flying towards the reservoir. When I returned, Babe told me that the Hawfinch had flew off and we headed home.

January was also a good start for a catch-up with former colleagues who had moved on to greener pastures. We planned it as a post Xmas and pre-birthday meet so there were presents involved. I’d a fantastic time finding 3 presents for 3 lovely girls and may our friendship continued. While waiting for them to arrive, I was entertained by a group of Morris Dancers showing off their dance moves. I loved watching Morris dancers but it was raining and I took this photograph from one of the shop’s entrance.

CC arrived first followed by RC. Since SA texted that she was stuck in traffic, we waited for her at Starb**** for a hot drink to warm up. I’d a hot chocolate in the very busy cafe. We tried to make our voices heard among the din and as soon as SA turned up, we adjourned to my chosen restaurant, Slug and Lettuce, situated right opposite the Cathedral Ruins. When we entered the Grade II listed building that used to be known as County Hall and was used as a courtroom, we were greeted by a judge’s chair and an entrance to the court cells which led to a dining area. I was impressed that the original features were still kept.

The restaurant was busy but there were plenty of seating. We’d a wonderful time browsing the very extensive menu and I finally chose the breaded plaice and chips with a superfood side salad. I also ordered the Bambini Bellini mocktail which was delish and it was 2 for the price of 1.That was a very nice surprise. While waiting for our food to arrive, we exchanged presents and will open them when we were home. We’d a wonderful time catching up with lots of laughter. There was so much to talk about. Our food arrived promptly and it was really good. We kept on checking each other’s plate and also the plate of other nearby diners. After 3 fabulous hours, it was time to leave. We’d such a good time that we planned to make it an annual event.

I was chuffed to bits when I arrived home to see this Song Thrush feeding on the fruits of the Hedera helix ivy outside our casa. This rampant, clinging evergreen ivy covered nearly a quarter of the boundary wall that separated the private cul-de-sac and another row of houses. Their flowers produced from late summer until autumn were rich in nectar and was an important late autumn food source for bees and other insects. The purple-black to orange-yellow berries ripened in late winter and were important food for many birds like this Thrush.

Babe and I nipped over to our favourite playground to stretch our legs. It was very quiet except for the family of Mute Swans. We witnessed the harshest, most necessary part of a territorial bird’s life that there came a time when the parents driving away their young they so diligently nurtured.  The parental ties had been cut and chased away, often quite aggressively as they were getting ready for their next brood. The juveniles had now lost their down and were almost white. Once the feathers and wings matured (8-10 months old) the parents no longer recognise them as their young, but rather as rivals.

Some very aggressive displays were shown. The cob with its neck outstretched, tore off, wings flailing to warn off the youngsters. which flew from one end of the pool to the other. There was the aggressively fast swimming approach, accompanied with hissing and busking, which was a threat where the aggressor’s neck was curved back and its wing half-raised. This was his territory and no other’s should be in it.

The juveniles often joined the first flock of swans they encountered where they usually stay until they matured when about 4 years old. They then seek out a mate, most often from the flock they were living with, and headed off with the mate to find their own territory. Upon arriving at the breeding territory, the pair engaged in a courtship behaviour, which included bobbing their heads and facing each other with quivering wings. Once courtship was completed, the pair were bonded for life. Then the cycle began again. If another mating pair was nearby then problems occur in the form of a territorial battle, the losers of which moved on in search of another ‘patch.’

Nearby, a flock of Shovelers were feeding in their customary fashion. They were forming a ‘pinwheel’ as they spun around. The effect of this spinning motion, and especially of their feet raking the marsh bottom, bringing up all sorts of food items like crustaceans, small minnows, insects and their larvae, seeds and aquatic plants. These were sieved by their grooved ridges (lamellae) along the edges of their elongated bill. Water and food particles were drawn in the tip of the bill and pushed through the lamellae with the tongue to exit at the base of the bill, leaving the residue of food particles to be swallowed. To maximize their contact with the particles suspended in the water, Shovelers moved their bills from side to side as they sat, spun and sucked in the medium. By doing this cooperative behaviour, more food particles were suspended in the water.

The next day, Babe and I went for a drive to the Gloucestershire countryside to check out a long-staying exotic bird. We left at 9.26 am on a very bright, sunny frosty morning. It was very cold, the mercury reaching 1.5C. We were heading for Plock Court Nature Reserve to catch a glimpse of the ‘masked bandit’ a rare bird from mainland Europe. This rare tit normally lived in Southern or Eastern Europe and was rarely seen in Britain. The nature reserve was very easy to find situated along a very busy A40 and bounded by hedges which provided structure and excellent cover for wildlife. Wotton Brook flowed through the park which developed it into a large wetland area.

When we arrived, the small cark was nearly full. We could see a small group of photographers and twitchers lingering about in the corner of the field. I put on my pink wellies because we were warned that the place was a bit swampy. The wetland area consisted of a series of separate small and shallow pools filled with Greater Reedmace (Bullrushes). Each bulbous bulrush head had ruptured into a fluffy mass of cotton that stood like miniature mop heads on dead stalks above the bent and broken leaves at their base. It was here where the bird was seen feeding on the tiny insects that lived in the bulrush heads. We joined the photographers/birders who were waiting for it to show itself from its hiding place in the tangled mass of dead bulrush clutter. It was well camouflaged as its colouration blended well with the surroundings.

Then it appeared, a dove grey head with a black bandit mask over the eyes, ascended up a stalk of bulrush showing off its rich chestnut upperparts and paler buff underparts. It was a handsome bird with a tiny conical and sharply pointed bill that was used to prise insect larvae from the bulrush heads. All you could hear were dozens of cameras rattling away. Then it flew up and over to the nearby hedges and stayed there for sometime. A few walked to the hedge and it flew further along and more people started following it. Babe and I just stood and watched these inconsiderate behaviours.

Then it flew back into one of the patches of bulrushes only to be surrounded again as people duly pursued it to whatever bulrushes it had favoured. I mean how close do you want to get??? Some had very powerful lenses and there was a reason why it was powerful. And guess what? It flew right into the patch in front of us. I was nearly knocked over during the stampede!!!! But, I stood my ground and told off anyone who stood in front of me. They wouldn’t dare argue with Babe standing beside me We’d some really fantastic views of this stunning bird. 

The male Eurasian Penduline Tit was easily recognisable by its distinctive ‘bandit mask’ which was a black stripe across its eyes. The species got its name from the elaborate pendulum-like nests that it built, suspended from branches, usually over water. It had ring on its left leg and we later found out that it was ringed on 28th October 2017 on Alderney, which was one of The Channel Islands as a first-calender year female.

We went back to the car to have some lunch and warmed up with coffee. More and more people were turning up. I hoped they gave it some space to settle down and feed. After our short break, we walked back to join the party. Apart from the Penduline Tit, we were chuffed to see a male Stonechat perched on top of the bulrush stalk checking out what the fuss was all about. He was stunning with a striking black head with white around the side of the neck, orange-red breast and a mottled brown back. As its name suggested, it uttered a sharp loud call that sounded like two stones being tapped together, which was quite hard to be heard due to the proximity to the road.

A small, dumpy bird, he was frequently seen flicking his wings while he perched with an upright stance. Like the Penduline Tit, he was primarily insectivorous, feeding on caterpillars, moths, ants, spiders and flies and that is why they were sharing the same habitat. But unlike the Penduline Tit, he was a sit and wait predator. He selected as elevated perch, watched the ground below and waited for something to show up in its line of sight before flying down and snapped the morsel up.

Stonechats were once thought to possess clandestine powers, inspiring poets such as WH Auden. It was the flickering of a Stonechat which led him to write his 1930 poem, The Wanderer. Perhaps, he identified with the tiny wandering Stonechat, one of the few insectivorous birds to tough it out through the British winters.

“Or lonely on fell as chat, By potholed becks, A bird stone-haunting, an unquiet bird.”

We also found it incredible that a flock of Redwings were hopping in between the dozens of photographers chasing after the Penduline Tit. What!!! These UK’s smallest true thrush arrived here in October from Scandinavia to spend the autumn in hedges and orchards where they fed on fruits and berries. This was why they were commonly thought to symbolise the advent of autumn. In winter, when all the fruits and berries had been stripped and eaten, they moved onto open areas like here in search of earthworms. They were feeding so close that we’d to slowly crept further to take their photographs. They must have been so hungry because they didn’t fly away despite being surrounded by dozens of people. Their harsh contact ‘chittick’ calls could be clearly heard.

They were easily identified by the reddish-brown flanks and underwings for which they were named. The upperparts of the body were greyish-brown, with a long, conspicuous, creamy-white stripe above the eye, while the underparts were buffy-white, with blackish streaks radiating from the throat. The beak was dark, with a yellowish base and the legs were pinkish-brown. Some old regional names for Redwings included wind thrush, windle and winnard, suggesting a connection between the birds and winter. But, it was more likely that these words originated from old European names such as Weingaerdsvogel in Germany, and the modern Vindrossel in Denmark, which related to the birds feeding on fruit in vineyards.

The Redwings feeding at the further end of the pond was being chased away by this Mistle Thrush. It was an aggressive  pale black-spotted thrush standing boldly upright and bounded across the ground after them. A statuesque and spirited bird, its upright stance on the ground bespoke avian alertness. It was fiercely defending its food sources like the worms, slugs and insects which were abundant in the wetlands. Unlike the Redwings feeding near us, it was quite wary and timid of humans. When it flew off, the long wings and whitish edges to the tail was visible.

After about 2 hours, we called it a day. This tiny nature reserve had given us some of the best start for the new year with the sightings of the rare Penduline Tit, Stonechat, Redwings and Mistle Thrush. Since it was on the route to Slimbridge WWT, we planned to make a quick detour and check what it had to offer. I think it would be dragonflies galore. It was also on the route to the Forest of Dean, one of the places that was on my list for this year. I couldn’t wait. We checked the beautiful Penduline Tit again to wish it a safe journey home.

We paid another visit to our favourite playground to see how the natives were doing in the cold weather. As we walked along the main path, we were accompanied by at least a dozen Robins. In winter, the resident birds were joined by immigrants from continental Europe, mostly from Scandinavia. These appeared paler than the natives with a duller red breast. They were also generally less tame because they skulked in woodlands while the British ones were out in the open.

I have no idea where these were from. We knew that if we rattled the tub containing mealworms, they would come flying. This was always our highlight, hand-feeding them. They would perched on a branch before landing to feed. It was the best feeling in the world, to be this close to a wild bird. But some will swooped down and snatched the mealworms, before flying off to a secluded place to feed.

Robins were territorial all year round but in winter individuals held territories for feeding. They defended their territories to the death, and so in the poem ‘Who killed Cock Robin?’, another Robin rather than a Sparrow was more likely.

"Who killed Cock Robin?" "I," said the Sparrow,
"With my bow and arrow, I killed Cock Robin."

Robins, both males and females, sang to declare and defended their own individual territories outside the breeding season, and their songs were quite identical. Around Xmas time, they began exploring each others territories in the hope of finding a mate.The majority will paired up, like this cute couple, and the females stopped singing. But not the males. They continued singing to declare the ‘ownership’ of a joint future breeding territory.

After feeding the Red-breasts, we continued our walk towards the hides. The path was very muddy and slippery. We stopped at Baldwin Hide when we saw a pair of Great Crested Grebe in the middle of the lake. They were still in their pale winter plumage with the white above the eye and a pink bill. They were pair bonding. This display was seen predominantly during the early stages of courtship and was usually performed when the pair was reunited after a period of separation, suggesting that it was used as a greeting and for reinforcement.

The head-shaking display was most familiar where the head plumage was fanned into a ruff before they faced each other and shake their heads from side to side. The most elaborate display was the ‘weed-ceremony’ which took place just before the pair began to build their nest platform. It was too early for that so they were still going to continue strengthening their relationship. Breeding pairs were monogamous and only stayed together for the breeding season. When one of them swam away, they make contact calls which was a rolling ‘craa’.

Nearby, a Little Grebe or Dabchick was swimming past the hide with a very visible fluffy rear end, a feature often accentuated by its habit of fluffing up its rump feathers. In winter, it had pale buff on its lower quarters while the back was dirty brown. It was a titchy and shy bird, diving when it spotted us and resurfacing among the vegetation at the further side of the hide. Little Grebes were persistent divers, either slipping below without surface disturbance or with a vigorous jump, creating a shower with lobed feet.

We then walked through the woods to get back to the car-park. We kept our eyes peeled to the ground as we walked under the trees and was delighted to see these beautiful woodland fungus brightening the gloomy landscape. These were Scarlet Elf Cups, a cup shaped fruiting bodies that were scarlet red and orange in colour that grew on decaying sticks and branches of moss-covered hawthorn, beech, hazel, willow and elm in damp spots and beneath leaf litter. It could also be seen on ditch sides and stream banks.

At work, every Tuesday, I joined a group of colleagues from various departments for half an hour well-being walk around the university grounds. It was the ideal ‘stressbusting’ and sociable activity with the added opportunity to make new friends while getting healthy. On one of the walks around Tocil Lake, we came across a Little Grebe fishing in the shallow end of the lake. It was a very nice surprise and a golden opportunity for others to learn more about nature as some of them had never seen one. I returned the next day armed with my camera and spotted it roosting on a tree very close to the path. 

Babe and I had been chasing after Rose Ring Necked Parakeets all over the place. We went to RSPB Sandwell Valley but didn’t see any and was chuffed when we photographed one in Wollaton Hall Park, Nottingham. Just imagined to our surprised and uttermost delight when we found out that there was a family of 4-6 living in a park just down the road. How did we missed that!!! It was sleeting when we went to seek them out. We must be loco

Longford Park was a surprising large green area with paths joining up with the Coventry Canal. When we arrived, the sleet had turned to snow but we just put our hoods up and zipped our thick coats and started walking. First we walked towards the houses where we came across lots of dog walkers. Then we walked back along the River Sowe that flowed through the Community Nature Park when we heard the familiar squawkings. We followed it and came across a row of Weeping Willows lining the banks and the shrills got louder and louder and when we looked up, they were looking down on us, checking us out. There were 4 pairs of eyes peering at us from different branches.

The Ring-necked, or Rose-ringed parakeet was the UK’s most abundant naturalised parrot. It became established in the wild in the 1970s after captive birds escaped or were released. Despite their tropical origin, they were able to cope with the cold British winters, especially in suburban parks, large gardens and orchards where food supply was more reliable. They fed on a wide variety of fruit, berries, nuts, seeds, grain and household scraps.They were charming, exotic birds with their lurid green feathers, long tails, red beaks and black and pink rings around their necks and faces, hence the name ‘ring-necked’.

It was a challenge to take photographs because of the dreich weather conditions but we planned to come again now we know where they were. When we walked back we came across some notice boards. From the western end of the Community Nature Park, a path led down to Coventry Canal, and from the western end of Longford Park, was a route to the Sowe Valley foothpath. We planned one day when the weather was good to check out the path to the Sowe Valley. I was also delighted to find out that the nature park was designated a Wildlife Conservation area.

We went for a long drive to Carmarthen to check out a camera shop. Babe had been eyeing a Nikkor 600 mm F4IFED lens from the Carmarthen Camera Centre which he wanted to add to his collection. We chose the most atrocious day to make the 190 miles one-way trip. It was 5.3C and spitting when we left the casa. We drove through the M40, M42 (West), M5 (South), M50 South Wales, A40, M40 (West) and the A48 for Carmarthenshire. In between, we’d a comfort break at the very busy Strentham service. The rain must had been very heavy because there were flooded river plains at Malvern.

It was in Monmouthshire when we saw the bilingual road signs. It was very foggy in Newport and plenty of water spray near Cardiff. Our tiny car began to aquaplane on the standing water on the road. There was report of an accident at Brigend but thankfully it cleared by the time we arrived in the monsoon-like weather conditions. It was a very slow drive through the Vale of Neath which was shrouded in mist. Finally after 3+ hours, we arrived in a rain-soaked town of Carmarthen. As we slowly drove through the town which had changed so much, we managed to find a parking space outside the shop. How lucky was that.

I stayed in the car while Babe checked out the equipment. I was chuffed to find that there was wi-fi hot-spots in a town in the middle of Wales. Isn’t that amazing!!! Babe brought out the lens to test on his camera and started taking shots of the surroundings. Unfortunately, due to the leaden skies and lack of light, it was a challenge. The gloomy greyness had Babe tutting and grumbling about ISO’s and shutter speeds. But he was pleased with the results when we viewed it through the laptop and the lens came home with us. Our initial plan was to check out the town but changed our minds. We’d another comfort break at Tesco and filled the car with petrol.  At £121.99, it was very expensive.

Then we stopped at a layby for lunch on the A48. We noticed there were plenty of laybys on this stretch of road and they were very clean. No full bins and no rubbish laying around. Laybys were intended for short parking breaks to stretch the legs, ‘spend a penny’, for a picnic or pausing to get a photo of the view. Unfortunately, we were in a middle of nowhere. We continued on and we came across very heavy fog at Cross Hands. We’d another comfort break at the Welcome Break on the A4603. It was a slow drive home as the weather hadn’t changed at all.  We hoped the weather will get better so that Babe could play with his latest toy.

After the long drive, we popped over to Brandon Marsh to stretch our cramped legs. As usual, I brought a tub of mealworms for the hoods and they were were waiting for us. Babe rattled the tub and they came flying in and perched on the branches. They were taking turns to fly in, swooping and snatching a morsel or two. They were too hungry to be territorial of their food supply. We left a mound on the ground for the rest who were not brave enough to join the party.

Along Primrose Bank, we noticed there were plenty of buds on the plant. I hoped they don’t flower too soon because it was still in the deep depths of winter. At Baldwin Hide, a dead swan was floating in the water. Ooh…oh. That’s not a good sign. We’d read news that the highly pathogenic H5N6 flu had been detected in the wild birds in Warwickshire. I hoped no more birds will be infected. This Golden Eye swam past the hide and was very intrigued by the camera clicks and kept on posing in front of us. What a handsome duck.

A family of Long-tailed tits were happily roaming through the woods and settled on the tree behind the hide to feed, gleaning invertebrates from under the leaves and branches. It was amazing watching these balls of tumbling, see-sawing cuties bouncing from from one branch to the next during which their high-pitched, rolling si-si-si-si-si calls were punctuated with percussive clipped notes. These vocalisations helped flock members kept in touch with each other as they moved restlessly through the trees.

“A troop of birds on laughing wings

Came tumbling by in loops and strings:

See! See! See! their leader cried …”

~Anthony Rye~

We walked to East Marsh Hide and watched a Coot running along the surface the water. Its feet had distinctive lobed flaps of skin on the toes which acted in the same way as webbed feet when swimming. It pattered noisily over the waters, in a flurry of flapping and splashing, before taking off for a few metres and landing and swimming away. Since it had short, broad, rounded wings, it needed a long pattering run across the water with the long toes trailing behind the tail. It relied on its leg power to help in taking off, a process called spattering.

Coots had a distinctive white beak and a prominent white frontal ‘shield’ above the beak which earned them the title ‘bald’.They fed on vegetation, seeds, snails and insect larvae by diving below the surface. They had a natural cork-like buoyancy and bobbed back to the surface to consume their catch. They needed water with abundant supplies of floating or submerged vegetation to provide the diet for themselves and their chicks.

They were sociable birds living in flocks and feeding together, although Coots were also very territorial and aggressively chased off any intruders. At feeding times, they emitted explosive ‘pitts’ noises, like a hammer striking an anvil. These were due to their quarrelsome habits of stealing food from one another. Soon, they switched behaviour from their winter flocking to become aggressively territorial as the breeding season approached. Disputes with neighbours turned into fights, using their sharp claws to strike each other, sometimes causing injuries.

We  saw a large flock of Wigeon flying around the reserve but not landing. They did this several times before finally landing on the lake. In flight, these ducks showed white bellies and males had a large white wing patch. They looked finely engineered, slender winged and pre-oiled so that all parts slide freely through the air. They were flying swiftly in compact flock, wheeling and turning in unison. There were now large numbers of them wintering here from Iceland, Scandinavia and Russia.

Wigeon had two particularly striking characteristics, one visual, one auditory, and both commemorated in their common names. The males had a high whistling call, ’wheee-o’ beautiful to hear when they were packed together. Whistler and Whewer came from these calls, and it was possible that was how they got their name. Throughout the pairing season in autumn and winter, the males constantly utter these excited, surprised exclamatory whistles, while the females grunt approvingly. Wigeon were also called Golden Head or Yellow Poll, again from the male who had a vivid orange-yellow streak which stood out brilliantly on his horse-chestnut red head

On the way back to the car, we came across a flock of birds feeding on the lower branches of the alder trees, overlooking Goose Pool. We crept closer and glimpsed a mixed flock of Siskins and Redpolls flitting joyously from branch to branch. The sweet twittering feeding among the trees was a pleasant sight and sound in winter. Siskins had a distinctively forked tail and a long narrow bill designed for eating small seeds. The males had a yellow-green body and a black crown and bib. There were yellow patches on the wings and tail.

We also made another visit to Longford Community Nature Park to meet our new feathered friends. We headed straight to the very muddy path under the Weeping Willow trees and we were greeting by the familiar squawkings from the Ring-necked, or Rose-ringed parakeets. We were so excited to see them again but unfortunately something spooked them off and they flew to the conifer trees overlooking car-park. We followed them and had fantastic views of them out in the open. They were playing hide-and-seek with us and when they got bored started plucking the individual needles of the fir leaves and chewing on them. We just stood below them rattling hundreds of shots. What an incredible experience.

They talk all day
and when it starts to get dark
they lower their voices
to converse with their own shadows
and with the silence.

They are like everybody
—the parakeets—
all day chatter,
and at night bad dreams.

With their gold rings
on their clever faces,
brilliant feathers
and the heart restless
with speech...

~Albert Blanco ‘The Parakeets’~

We ended the month with a super blue blood moon and a ‘lunar trifecta’ as it combined a blue moon, supermoon and lunar eclipse. The event, which was the first of its kind to be seen in the Western Hemisphere for 150 years, made the full moon appeared larger than normal and the eclipse caused the moon to glow red. This was also the second January full moon, known as a ‘blue moon’. Unfortunately, in the UK, we won’t see the super blue moon at its fullest or brightest or the lunar eclipse. But, it was still worth looking to the skies for this incredibly rare cosmic event.