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Wednesday 13th 35F, the grass is damp and the air is cool. A slight risk of brightness is jostling feebly with the overcast. A walk to the lanes. A slightly chilly wind but otherwise pleasant enough in the sunshine.The birds were quite literally queuing to be identified this morning. A spotted a pair of Redpolls on our 50' high Hazel bush. I have yet to confirm the "Orangy Bullfinch with a snow white crown. "I'm quite tempted by "White capped Redstart" but none of the Redstart family match my needs.
It is still before 7am and I have already been out to deposit the recyclable packaging. From the grocery, home delivery service. Now safely ensconced in the now familiar wheelbarrow outside the gates of Chez Hovel. This saves me rushing about like a headless chicken when they arrive unexpectedly during morning coffee and marmalade on toasted, whole grain rolls.
I threw a smallish tarpaulin over the three boxes to ward off any risk of inclemency. I also recited a little known chant to the Norse Gods to ensure the wind did not rise enough to cause a major international incident with "The Official Neighbours From Hell." There is always a chance that the tarpaulin might take to the skies. Where it might land, "quite unexpectedly" on their specially trained cockerel. Which screams in the middle of the night and that would never do.
This particular, home delivery service is coming from somewhere north of the Arctic Circle in Jylland. i.e. Jutland, to those locals and immigrants who still celebrate The War with Gravely Blighted. "They" erect effigies of Invading Brits and "We" of Vikings and have annual bonfires and watery Danish lager. They have long memories in these parts. Despite Gravely having put an end to The Occupation! Another, much celebrated event.
The change in the service level of the grocery <cough> delivery service is truly quite remarkable. In fact we may be their very last customers now everybody has gone back to work. We went from a grudging 20 day distant, delivery slot to [quite literally] overnight! All thanks, it seems, to a new delivery company. The previous lot would sneak down the drive, in the dark and dump our stuff on the damp grass outside the gate and run.
The new chap apparently enjoys more sociable working hours, but is also quite shy. So that he reverses rapidly back down our drive and away in a drifting turn at the junction with the main thoroughfare. With the newly laid gravel kicking up from his wildly spinning wheels. Perhaps he fears the unseen Jinping zombies? Who must surely be hiding inside our sombre, peeling gates. So that he must escape before they can muster a serious attack.
He has little to fear [apart from appearances] and the resident Blackbirds. I really am not that terrifying beyond the official 2m social distancing rule. Though that has since been reduced to 1m. Even I wouldn't want to be within that distance of me with my "morning hair" [and Jinping Pandemic beard.]
I practice strict social distancing in the bathroom mirror. With a handy metric tape measure. Which I placed there precisely for this very purpose. My laser rangefinder is a bit too fierce indoors. When I am half asleep and there are mirrors involved.
He has little to fear [apart from appearances] and the resident Blackbirds. I really am not that terrifying beyond the official 2m social distancing rule. Though that has since been reduced to 1m. Even I wouldn't want to be within that distance of me with my "morning hair" [and Jinping Pandemic beard.]I practice strict social distancing in the bathroom mirror. With a handy metric tape measure. Which I placed there precisely for this very purpose. My laser rangefinder is a bit too fierce indoors. When I am half asleep and there are mirrors involved.
Where was I? Oh yes. Marauding blackbirds! The van driver must think they are Ravens on the gates of Baskerville House from some silly old, B&W, horror film. The birds will insist on sitting on top of the gates and crapping all over the imported and galvanized, Suffolk latch.
We have tried applying high voltage electrodes to sharpened copper spikes, projecting from the top of the gate. But to little avail. The birds just sneer at such Tesla-like frivolities as a minor entertainment in their otherwise busy day. Of repeated evacuation in the Gardens of Feline Delight and Carnal Pleasures.
I find the the long, blue lightning bolts entertaining myself. Even if there are no fatalities. Our "electric fence" has the dual role of impeding local cats from penetrating THG's other defenses. Which I shan't name for security reasons. I am given fairly free reign with the giant copper coils and snaking high voltage leads crisscrossing the lawn. Though god help me if I desecrate a sacred, ancestral, wild flower bed with my shenanigans!
We know the Blackbird gang leader well. Because he sports a white Nike emblem on one wing. You'd have thought such outrageous, cosmetic extravagance would mark him out for early erasure, but no. The years pass and still he persists! Always surrounded by his evil [crapping] henchmen [Aka: His extended family.] There's a lot of it about in these rural settings with so much inbreeding going on. [Or so I hear on the Resistance Grapevine.]
A walk to the lanes amidst the cacophony of a myriad of warblers and others. A slightly chilly wind but otherwise pleasant
enough in the sunshine.The birds were quite literally queuing to be
identified this morning. A spotted a pair of Redpolls on our 50' high
Hazel bush as I followed the sneaky, Ginger cat down the drive. IT hides in our "natural undergrowth habitat" and yowls for hours like a drunken slut. Or a randy tom cat? I haven't decided which side it dresses yet.
I have yet to confirm the "orange breasted bullfinch with a snow white crown songbird." It was blasting away right at the top of a neighbour's ancient ash tree. It should have flown away [the bird not the tree] but completely ignored my presence as I stared up at it with my binoculars in total disbelief.
I'm quite tempted by "White capped Redstart" but none of the extended Redstart family match my exact needs. Don't you hate it when that happens? It's no use Googling a list of bird identification indicators. The daft things simply don't exist over here. Or have never been seen outside the Steppes of China or coastal swamps of Madagascar! I am not allowed to mention tropical birds in Scandinavian bird watching terms. It's just not the done thing. You'd think there would be an online calculator for this sort of thing, or something. Tick all the boxes of your bird's size and colours and out pops a cross between an American Robin and a... juvenile Orangutan?
We have tried applying high voltage electrodes to sharpened copper spikes, projecting from the top of the gate. But to little avail. The birds just sneer at such Tesla-like frivolities as a minor entertainment in their otherwise busy day. Of repeated evacuation in the Gardens of Feline Delight and Carnal Pleasures.
I find the the long, blue lightning bolts entertaining myself. Even if there are no fatalities. Our "electric fence" has the dual role of impeding local cats from penetrating THG's other defenses. Which I shan't name for security reasons. I am given fairly free reign with the giant copper coils and snaking high voltage leads crisscrossing the lawn. Though god help me if I desecrate a sacred, ancestral, wild flower bed with my shenanigans!
We know the Blackbird gang leader well. Because he sports a white Nike emblem on one wing. You'd have thought such outrageous, cosmetic extravagance would mark him out for early erasure, but no. The years pass and still he persists! Always surrounded by his evil [crapping] henchmen [Aka: His extended family.] There's a lot of it about in these rural settings with so much inbreeding going on. [Or so I hear on the Resistance Grapevine.]
A walk to the lanes amidst the cacophony of a myriad of warblers and others. A slightly chilly wind but otherwise pleasant
enough in the sunshine.The birds were quite literally queuing to be
identified this morning. A spotted a pair of Redpolls on our 50' high
Hazel bush as I followed the sneaky, Ginger cat down the drive. IT hides in our "natural undergrowth habitat" and yowls for hours like a drunken slut. Or a randy tom cat? I haven't decided which side it dresses yet.I have yet to confirm the "orange breasted bullfinch with a snow white crown songbird." It was blasting away right at the top of a neighbour's ancient ash tree. It should have flown away [the bird not the tree] but completely ignored my presence as I stared up at it with my binoculars in total disbelief.
I'm quite tempted by "White capped Redstart" but none of the extended Redstart family match my exact needs. Don't you hate it when that happens? It's no use Googling a list of bird identification indicators. The daft things simply don't exist over here. Or have never been seen outside the Steppes of China or coastal swamps of Madagascar! I am not allowed to mention tropical birds in Scandinavian bird watching terms. It's just not the done thing. You'd think there would be an online calculator for this sort of thing, or something. Tick all the boxes of your bird's size and colours and out pops a cross between an American Robin and a... juvenile Orangutan?
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