Where, how and when.

There was a great deal of excitement this morning, down at the local lake.


Up on the pub roof, the young House Martins were gathering, and excitedly chattering about their forthcoming maiden migration to Africa.

Lots of questions, like;
‘Where’s Africa?’ .........................nobody knew.
‘How do we get there?’ ..............nobody knew.

‘When do we go?’ .........................nobody knew.

The occasional Swallow stopped off, to see if they could learn anything from this crowd, but everyone was equally mystified. All they knew was that they were going; soon.

And amongst them all, the inevitable show off. Brian performing his aerobatic tricks, to anyone who was interested.

They watched for a while, and then got back to discussing the more important things of the day.

Where, how and when?

Thank goodness for……

Last years archives.

Sparrowhawk. He flew over the garden one day last August.

A fly past by a Heron. Not in the garden; but last October

A dew covered web last September.

Rose hips at the local lake edge. That was last August.

And I'll go out with a Mallard in the early morning mist. Another from last August.

I really must try and get out soon.

Have a good weekend.

If they could talk, maybe..........

Hey! Those aren’t for you.

What do you mean?

Yea, they’re for us smaller birds.

That’s right. Yer too big for that

Listen squirt. There’s plenty for all of us!

Yea; you tell ‘em woody.

Now, how am I supposed to get these little things out?

That’s the whole point. You’re not supposed to.

Beat it shorty!

Ha ha! Got one!

Just ignore them Maggy, and eat.

You won’t be so brave when my dad comes.

Spam anyone?

Had the spammers online last night; well, one. What a nightmare trying to delete all the posts. In the end, with some help from Tricia, (thanks), I had to set the ‘comments’ to moderate, and it seems to have worked.

A nasty little person by the name of ‘disa’, ISP address 61.64.187.232 from Taiwan.
They managed 169 posts till I managed to stop it.


Why?

The local

I took a short break from car hunting today, and wandered around the local lake in the sunshine. Apart from some distant trees hitting their first flushes of autumn colour in the leaves,

it felt rather pleasant. Almost like a summers day; enough to lift the spirits. Even some of the birds were a bit cooperative for a change.

Although this Blue Tit wasn’t going to come from the cover of the trees for no one.

The Canada Geese were keeping one watchful eye open, as I walked past them,

but they weren’t going to let me interrupt their breakfast.

At first glance in the distance, this chap had me thinking the white face belonged to a Barnacle Goose, but as he came closer, I realised it wasn’t.

I think he must be the result of a dalliance between a Canada and a Greylag Goose.

The butterflies were out in force, enjoying the warm sunshine.

A Painted Lady. The focus on the wrong end, but I quite liked it for the spread of the wings.

A female Common Blue. The colour in the wing tips, picked out nicely on the Common Birds-foot Trefoil. A sort of ‘two for one’ shot.

Here’s a couple more 'two for ones’,

a Six-spot Burnet on a Field Scabious.

and a Small White on Water Mint.

Amongst the various white clumps of Yarrow, I noticed this lone pink variety.

And further round the lake, some Fleabane,

shining like golden stars in the sun.

Then I saw the biggest Dragonfly I’ve ever seen.

A male Brown Hawker. He was huge. A wingspan of 102mm; that’s about four inches in proper measurements.

By contrast, a female Common Darter,

a 58mm wingspan; about two and a half inches.

And smaller still, this unknown Damselfly.

Unknown to me, anyway.

And as I sat down at the edge of the lake, three curious cygnets came over to see what I was doing.

‘Hmmmm, not a lot’, they decided.

‘If I look cute, maybe he has some bread for us’.

Realising I hadn’t, they swam off, and rested themselves.

It was time for me to head home; and rest too.

The solaf...........Chapter Eight

The final chapter

CHAPTER EIGHT

Gemma frantically searched the shed for sticks. Anything to hook rag doll from the water would do.
Rag doll was slowly going; heavier with all the water. Sinking.
The solaf was getting weary now. His arms were beginning to ache.
‘How much further.’ He began to wonder.
The fish, slowly gliding across the bottom of the pond, was searching for food.

Roger was in the kitchen, making some breakfast. He was still angry with his sister, for yesterday. Crab, was sat by the back door, waiting to go out.
Next door, Winston the boxer was frantically digging his escape tunnel under the fence. Almost there. Just a few more inches.

Roger pushed the back door open, and Crab slinked out into the fresh air.
Winston’s nose twitched, as he got a whiff of ‘cat.’
His burrowing grew more frantic.

Gemma raced back to the pond, a long stick clasped in her tiny hand, as rag doll, water drawing her further down, was beginning to panic.
The solaf was almost at the top now. He could clearly see rag doll, almost within touching distance.
The fish glanced upwards, no food to be had on the bottom. He spied movement; time to investigate.
He watched, closely for a moment, then decided to move upwards. Fast.

Crab was ambling over to the pond, curious to see what Gemma was up to.

Time seemed to slow down to a crawl, as a series of events began to unfold.

Roger was striding out into the garden. He’d seen his sister.

Winston had burst through to the other side of the fence, just a few feet from the pond.

The stick in Gemma’s hand was slowly lifting rag doll from the water, as the solaf reached out for her, inches from the surface.

Crab was at the pond’s edge now, crouching.

The fish, racing upwards, mouth open for the tasty snack dangling from the weed.

As it hit the solaf, the force knocked him flying through the air; followed by the fish. Gemma fell back in shock as the fish missile rose into the air.
Rag doll clinging to the end of the stick, was flung clear of the pond.
Crab saw the fish, and pounced, as Winston, barking, charged towards the cat.
The solaf hit the grass, with a thump, and rolled under a bush, just as Roger ran to investigate the chaotic scene.

Gemma sat up in disbelief at the events unfolding before her.
Crab had almost got the fish, but Winston had become a major threat now. He was almost upon the cat. Crab made a decision in an instant.
‘Leave the fish. Run.’ It tore off into the bushes, followed by Winston, barking frantically.
Gemma saw movement by the pond, near a small bush, and grabbing rag doll, raced over to see more clearly.
Roger had arrived now, totally stunned at what he’d just witnessed; and the fish thrashed wildly about on the grass.

Gemma bent down, not daring to believe her eyes.
There was a very bedraggled looking solaf. He looked up, and smiled. Gemma’s eyes filled with tears of happiness, as she scooped him up, holding him close to her heart.
“Solaf.” She cried. “You came back.”

The three friends walked slowly towards the house, as Roger desperately tried to catch the thrashing fish.
The back door swung open. It was Gemma’s father. He looked down at her, and smiled.
Then looked beyond her, and yelled, “Roger! Put that fish back in the pond, and then get right back here. You bad boy, that’s very, very naughty!”

The three friends were climbing the stairs to Gemma’s room, as her fathers voice was booming out its fury at her brother. She pushed the door closed, as they all fell onto the bed. She gazed at the wet rag doll and the wet solaf.
All back, safely.
Wet; but safe. She beamed at them both, and with a tear rolling down her cheek, said,


“This is the best day of my life.”

Pinks kids

Mr. Pinks youngsters stopped by the other day, without dad, feeding themselves. They’re growing up fast.

Mr. Pink junior. I think he’s going to be just as handsome as his dad.

and certainly not camera shy.

And a younger brother,

content to just sit around between snacks.


The clicking of the camera didn’t seem to bother them either, as they searched the grass for the seed I’d left for them.

But they were certainly curious of the strange man pointing a camera their way.

They’ve been coming off and on for a few days now. I hope they decide to stick around.

Caldecote Lake

A few more pictures from Sunday. Mostly butterflies, but I did mange a couple of birds. This family of Swans were enjoying a quiet moment,

and a female Reed Bunting.

I took a walk round to the ‘horror’ tree, to see how it was doing. I did a post about it back in May, and a catch up in June, where it was fighting back. And now?

A brand new, healthy tree. Looking at that tree now, got me thinking, do we really need all these chemical poisons to spray at the slightest hint of insect ‘attack’? I don’t think so; let Mother Nature do her thing, and take care of it. The horror tree is testament to that. She didn’t kill off all those Bird- cherry Ermine Moth caterpillars; she let them feed and grow into the beautiful moths they became. When they were ready, they left to do what they do, and the horror tree reverted back to a lush green tree again. The local lake hasn’t been defoliated by these handsome insects, it’s all still there supporting all the other life that depends on it.

Just beyond the tree, a female Common Darter was taking a rest, as the sun shone through her wings.

And the butterflies. Well, two; I don’t want to overdo it.

A Small Copper enjoying the nectar of Hedge Bindweed, fitting perfectly on the large white trumpet flowers.

And a female Common Blue.

I’ve seen more of these this year, than the promised Painted Lady explosion. And to even it up a bit, the male, in all his glory.

To finish on, a different kind of Common Blue.

The male Damselfly, taking a break on a Nettle leaf.

How come they don't get stung?