A walk down into Hebden Bridge and back home again through the woods.
The tiny pool in the stream at the edge of the wood was teeming with pond skaters. There must have been over a hundred of them rowing back and forth across the surface. So much life and activity in such a small space. There’s hope for the world yet!
Returning home after a pre-breakfast trip into Hebden Bridge for fish from the market, I spotted the barn owl flying past the end of our garden towards the front field. I shot upstairs to grab my camera. Sadly, the owl had already checked out the front field by the time I returned to the garden, but I spent a thrilling ten minutes watching it quartering the other nearby fields before heading off towards the Farm.
We heard a commotion outside yesterday evening, with dozens of birds scattering, and with one flying into the dining room window in blind panic. This morning, I found a mass of feathers on the lawn by the bird-feeder. The remains of a collared dove, by the look of it. Prime suspect: a sparrowhawk.
Jen had taken the day off work, so we took a trip to Bridestones Moor to look at its eponymous rocks. Unforecast drizzle began as soon as we arrived. Jen hates drizzle. I took a few hasty grab-photos, and was unexpectedly pleased with the results. Must return there soon for a proper photo-session.
As Jen and I took our regular early evening walk around the lanes, I spotted a small bird flitting about the scrub in our farmer friend’s field. Even from 50 metres away, the bird’s untidy, erratic flight screamed whitethroat at me. Turned out I was right.
Ragwort has come into bloom alongside the foxgloves. Yellow and purple, a daring combination. The local horsey types make a habit of pulling up intolerable, horse-poisoning ragwort and dumping it at the side of the road. It’s a real shame: the insects seem to love it.
No barn owl sightings for a couple of days, thanks presumably to all the wind and rain we’ve been getting. Owls’ soft feathers are ideal for silent flight, but not very waterproof. The owl put in an appearance between squalls at around 21:30 this evening, quartering the field out front, hovering very low at one point, just inches above the tall grass. Jen and I are thrilled a barn owl has become a regular feature of our evenings’ entertainment.
As I was putting out the recycling last thing, there was a small, momentary break in the clouds to the south. The edges of the opening blazed with moonlight, although the moon itself remained hidden. In the middle of the opening, a planet shone. According to my astronomy app, it was either Saturn or Jupiter, both of which were close to the moon. My money was on Saturn.
A lone lapwing tumbling over wet fields as I drove back home from the supermarket over the moors this morning. There have been even fewer of them this summer, although there seem to have been more curlews around.
As I unpacked the car, the weeds along the edges and down the middle of our driveway looked delightful in the wet. The purple selfheal is looking particularly magnificent at the moment. There are days when all the hard work we don’t put into weeding the drive really pays off.
Having decided she needed to change where she was leaving food for the semi-feral cats living in her hay-loft, as her dogs were getting to it and it was attracting slugs to the back door, our farmer friend went to scout out suitable locations in the disused mistal beneath the hay loft. Uncharacteristically, her dogs, a young Staffordshire bull terrier and a Jack Russell, point-blank refused to accompany her. They seemed terrified of the mistal. When she slid open the door, she found out why: a huge badger was taking a kip in the old cast-iron bath that used to serve as a cattle-watering trough. She now suspects it hasn’t been the dogs eating all the cat food.
Took Rosie the extremely reluctant cocker spaniel for a short drag in Crow Nest Wood.
A hot and sunny day. Walked down into Hebden Bridge through the woods to pick up a book from the Book Case. Took a nice photo of a carrion crow on the way back.
Evening, 9pm, stood in the garden with camera at the ready, hoping for a barn owl. It passed by at the same time yesterday. Despite my scepticism, it actually turned up bang on cue, flying around the far edge of the field in front of the house. For a few exciting moments, it looked as if it was going to fly right over me, but, when it was about 30 metres away, it veered sharply downwards into the long grass and emerged a few seconds later with a hapless rodent in its left talon. It then made an immediate bee-line toward the outbuildings at the Farm.
With Jen working from home during the lockdown, I vacated the study and have been working on my Darwin book from the dining-room table for the last few months. On the whole, this new arrangement has worked better than expected. Not having my books immediately to hand is only a minor inconvenience, and my iPad with its ‘Smart Keyboard’ is a pretty good substitute for the iMac. True, I’ve recently begin to notice occasional neck-stiffness, presumably from not having my screen at eye-level, so I’ve started to take neck-flex breaks. But things are going OK.
One major distraction, however, has been the view into the garden. During the last few weeks in particular, there has been an awful lot of bird activity in the garden, now this year’s fledglings are out an about. The bird table has been constantly packed with squabbling finches and tits, and the bird-bath has seen plenty of action.
The presence of a pair of bullfinches has been particularly thrilling. They’re far from common in our garden, but usually put in some appearances around this time of year. The male, in particular, has been throwing his weight about at the bird table.
We even had a grey squirrel in the garden on Tuesday evening. A rarity around here. We were alerted to him by a loud banging on the window as he attacked his own reflection.
The weather has been less good than in May, so we haven’t been taking quite as many evening walks around the lanes. But we’re still keeping reasonably regular. The foxgloves are particularly magnificent at the moment. They feature in one of the chapters of my book.