Murderous Rage & Buntings!

Every Spring, I am driven to the brink of murder…the murder of Collard Doves. For a bird lover, that’s extreme provocation! I don’t know if it’s the same pair each year but, if not, they obviously pass on detailed information to the next incumbents. They have decided that sitting in the crook of the down-pipe from the gutters, just outside my bedroom window, is the best place to kukoo-kuc over and over and over again. They start early, just after dawn, and go on and on and on. I suppose there’s something about the sound quality and amplification (yup!), just under the eaves, which makes it a prime coo-ing spot. Anyway, today I was woken at 6am and unless I get out of bed and open the window, the bird sits there for ever kukoo-ing. I got up 7 times before 7am! Flipping birds!

This afternoon, all such frustrations melted away. A short walk and a long sit down on the SE slope of Pitstone Hill. Overhead, puffs of white cloud were passing through an otherwise blue sky and the sunshine would peak in and out as appropriate. I came upon a pair of Stonechats (Saxicola rubicola), both birds regularly calling, creating that unmistakable sound of two stones being bashed together. I think the male even sang a little, which I’d never heard before.

The hillside was the epitome of Spring bird song. Numerous Yellowhammers, a couple of Corn Buntings, Meadow Pipits and Skylarks, all singing, performing or searching out food and a foothold. I lay down in the sunshine and just soaked up the sounds. A Skylark flew into the air-space over me, singing hard, only to parachute steadily away, taking his trills with him. The Yellowhammers buzzed and sparkled in the sunshine. They have to be one of my favourite birds - so bright and smart and colourful. I wish I was able to do them justice in photographs (today's shots are extremely heavy crops…best viewed small).

Yellowhammer (female)

Yellowhammer (female)

Yellowhammer (male) (through wire fence!)

Corn Bunting

Corn Bunting

Further around the hill, there were 3 Starlings lying on the grass, motionless, doing as I had done earlier, soaking up the sun. Initially, two were hidden and, at first glance, the lone bird looked like a Ring Ouzel…until I realised it wasn't. A small flock of Linnets flew through, chattering to one another and, over Ivinghoe Beacon, I could see 2 Red Kites circling slowly. Ultimately, I wasn’t the only one taking it easy on a Friday afternoon.

The Wily Wheatear

Hemel: The little tinker! Sunday midday, I’d watched him fall gracefully from the sky - obviously coming from the south - and alight on the grass verge by the side of the road. After getting his bearings and taking a good look around, he’d flown into the crop field. The area is exposed, higher ground and the cold wind was gusting hard. I achieved the obligatory record shots and some video footage, which, incidentally, is probably best watched when you’re half drunk. After that, I lost him and presumed he’d flown onwards.

Yesterday, I checked the area again. No sign of the African beauty but I did spot a couple of Partridges waaaay off in the distance. Couldn’t eliminate Red-legged without a scope so planned to do that another time. Today, I was busy most of the day but got out for an hour in the morning. Perfect conditions: light wind, blue sky and blazing sunshine and....as I approached the crop field, a glowing dot seemingly moving. The wily Wheatear was still here! I was pushed for time but improved on Sunday’s record shots (even if they are cropped to within an inch of their lives!) and took some hand-held camera video footage, at long range, which means it’s even worse than Sunday’s efforts. Still, it’s a fabulous little Wheatear, in a field in Hemel Hempstead, happily preening in the sunshine and being dive-bombed by singing Skylarks. Bliss!


Shocking(ly bad) footage of the White-arse...

Skylarks Sing, Wheatears Fall: Spring has Sprung!

Startops reservoir, 26 March 2013

Hemel: I’d like to say that I went out this morning with a cunning plan to find a sparkly migrant. Actually, the situation was fairly similar to my first Hemel Wheatear in October 2012. Back then, I’d just popped out to the local shops to buy a loaf of bread and walked home to find a Wheatear hopping around my driveway! Bonkers eh.

Over the last week, I’ve felt extremely drained and much of my time has been spent doing very little. This morning, I felt particularly washed out and thought what can I usefully do that involves the least amount of effort but enables me to enjoy the outdoors. Having listened to Jerry Hoare’s beautiful Skylark recording last night, I struck on a plan. It involved sitting in my car - window open - watching, listening and recording the Skylarks on local farmland. It required virtually no effort, meant I was comfortable, but gave me the sense of being outside.

There were perhaps 7 or more Skylarks within view. 4 at least were males, singing hard for love and land. In the half hour that I’d sat quietly listening and watching, there had been only 3 bursts of song that were close enough to record. These lasted for between 2 and 3 minutes but I was still waiting for a bird to come right up close, as it had done early on, when, in my weakened mental state, I’d failed to press the record button (ahem)...

…so, anyway...there I was, sitting comfortably, binoculars in hand, when a bird dropped onto the verge about 30-40 meters in front of the car. A WHEATEAR! And, a bright, smart Spring male to boot (not dissimilar to the Startops bird in 2013)! Fantastic! I leaned out of the car window and grabbed some record shots (below). The bird then flew into the crop field and I hauled myself out of the warmth and attempted some video footage. If you watch it, you’ll understand why I never try to video anything with my camera unless it is an extremely still day, but, hey, it’s a Wheatear in Hemel so that’s got to be worth a wobble or two…thousand. The soundtrack is one of the Skylarks from the morning - it’s not great quality but the best I could manage today (barking dog essential apparently).