A Dartmoor Polterabend - or 'from market to barn'

In the beginning was the barn...

We met at a cattle market, had an engagement-reception party in a cowshed, and will be having our wedding reception in a dairy. It would be more appropriate if we were farmers, to be honest... Ah well.

Friday: two party-throwers meet up with a handful of party-goers in mizzly rain, to prepare the barn. Exit copious quantities of cow-erm "waste", via brush, shovel and barrow. The marquee arrives, in pieces, with another partygoer and is puzzled over ('how the hell does that fit together?'); the water trough is scrubbed out for employment as a wine & beer cooler. The rain - encouragingly - begins to lift... A further party-goer arrives, the yard is brushed down, but there's no water in the pipes to hose it. Hm.

Dartmoor at its finest!

Jeremy and youngest sister Josie discuss the location of the bar. Jeremy demonstrating the difficulties of hurling from this position. Jo's keeping her placcy bag well clear, thankyou so much!

Angela and Naomi shovelling ... stuff.

Still shovelling...!

I'm driving her up the wall. Heh.

Another reveller joins the fray: Arturo - my future brother-in-law shovels ... stuff ... with Josie and Jeremy

Nearly finished. Only the marquee to put up and the yard to sweep, the cooler to scrub and the decoration, food and booze to see to. Oh, and the lights. And the tents and signs. And the tables, chairs and urn...

Phase one complete! Enter Phase two...

Saturday morning: the same two party-throwers and two different party-goers load their respective cars to the gunwales with important stuff and re-enter the fray. A bit of branch wired up here, some lights attached there... it's beginning to come together. The marquee borrowed in case of rain is erected, with guy-ropes that stretch across the entire yard (you try putting up a tent designed for a grassy lawn on a concrete apron!). Two further party-goers arrive and muck in with enthusiasm. More decorations are put in place. Tables and chairs arrive, with the assistance of yet another generous friend! Booze is cooled and more is put out on a makeshift bar... ...barbecues are built, candles in jars put out, food gathers on tables, notices go up to direct the guests towards parking, toilets and camping... ...the sun shines... ...the sun sets. Lights are turned on. Guests arrive.

Laura shows us what she thinks of not being allowed booze...

Na: "I'm marrying into this family."

Eventually, the moment everyone seems to have been waiting for arrives - and the crockery is ritually smashed, shattered and scattered. Have to say that it was very amusing watching the inhibitions break down - the initial 'not sure this is quite the done thing' turning to 'that's not broken properly - heave another plate at it!')... ...and eventually, the debris is swept by the two of us, sharing a broom in the apparently traditional manner.

Jeremy and Naomi look on as Michael gets proceedings under way. Poppy waits with ceramics in hand to the right!

UFO sightings increased substantially over the evening. From left: Poppy, Alice, Malc and Leona, Antje, Claire and Ian.

See what I mean? From left: Arturo & Basti, me, Na, Michael, Finlay, Simon, Poppy, Alice, Fiona, Malc, Leona, Rebecca and Antje. Phew!

As if we hadn't swept the floor often enough over the past day! Jo, Laura, Arturo and Basti look on approvingly as sister Naomi and fiancé Jeremy get sweeping...

Malc, Michael and Antje admire Judith's technique. Claire watches on... Ian, meanwhile, is hastily doling out the dinner service donated by Vicky - Fiona's having nothing to do with this one!

Yes folks, it's a sizeable pile of crockery. Drainage for flowerpots, anyone? Here goes: Fiona, Poppy and Alice, Leona & Malcolm, Ben, Antje, Hayley, Brian, Ian, James, Toby & Harry, Chrissy, Claire, Shona, Kim, Paul, Fiona & Paul. My fingers hurt.

Once again, the happy couple sweep on... with an audience of Michael, Poppy, Alice, Malcolm, Antje, Claire, Ian, Finlay, Rebecca, Simon, Ben, James, Harry, Hayley, Chrissie, Toby, Brian, Shona, Paul, Paul, Fiona, Amy and Tom. They really hurt.

Not again! Judith goes in to make sure that one's properly smashed... Michael, Malc, Antje, Claire, Ian, Fiona, Rebecca, Finlay, Simon, Amy, Tom, Shona, Brian, Chrissie, James, Fiona, Tim, Domi (foreground) and Lizzie... aargh.

After that, just a standard party - bit of music, food, booze, chitchat and general malarkey. Good fun!

Matt, Clare, Simon and Malc discuss whoever is in the pushchair. To the right, Brian and Shona chat with Claire, Chrissy and Toby with Antje; and Andy makes a rapid escape!

Josie eyes up the bar, whilst Roland and Sonja eye up the food. Behind, Paul, Ben, Kim and Hayley inspect the floor for shoddy shovel-work, whilst Judith fights her way into a recalcitrant bottle - and who's that with the pumpkin on their head?! 

Finally, and in the nick of time, the much-admired cake, courtesy of Sonja! Getting in some practice for a wedding cake, basically. Tasted great too!

 

Thankyou Naomi, Mark and Min for such a spectacular barn and campsite - the stars were superb. Thankyou, everyone who helped us set up and take down, thankyou everyone who came and made it such a fun night: we'll throw another party again. Sometime. :o)

Finally, thanks beyond thanks to Domi Jarocki and Angela Barker for the photos!

Sunday atlassing

A lazy Sunday start, after which I headed out along the lanes near the house for some winter atlas roving records. Nothing out of the ordinary, until I decided on a whim to head across the the Teign, just in time to see this soaring down the valley, with an irate Buzzard giving it what for...:

Not what I expected, to be honest! Not quite on the garden list - now that would be a corker! - but an Osprey over the edge of Dartmoor is quite a smart record.

Moor birding

Halloween saw me up at silly o'clock, setting mistnets to ring birds up on the moors. An early start to try and ring some Redwing failed miserably, but we had some compensation in the form of two Treecreeper, nine Meadow Pipit and a Reed Bunting, as well as some reasonable retraps - a male Chaffinch and a Blue Tit ringed earlier this year, and a Great Tit ringed last year. Nothing thrilling, but pleasant.

We stomped off for a walk for a couple of hours after the wind came up, heading over Grimspound and Hamel Down.

Grimspound - a famous old settlement on the moors

Hamel Down

Star sighting of the day was of two Red Grouse; a very, very scarce bird on Dartmoor - none of your cosseted, augmented shooting populations from up north! Red Grouse were (re-?)introduced onto the moors many years before I was even a twinkle in my parents' eyes and the birds cling on by their feathery toes as a Devon breeding species. A handful of other species up on the tops - 2 Meadow Pipit, 2 Stonechat, a Carrion Crow, a Raven, a Snipe and a small flock of Starling with some Fieldfare mixed in. A whole eight species is about par for the course up there!

Lichens on the boundary posts are more photogenic than birds lurking on the horizon

Tamar: what's a dog to do, when you all get interested in the wildlife and the scenery?

Down in the valley, still a couple of Common Darter dragonflies egg-laying into the pond at Challacombe, with a young Common Frog seen hopping across a mire patch. Bizarrely, there was an abundance of what looked like 'cosmic snot' on the path north of Grimspound: unfertilised frogspawn, but at the wrong end of the year. Very odd...

Mushrooms below the pines and birches at Challacombe

On the way back down the road, I found a patch of Hawthorn that was swarming with Redwing. We seem to have good numbers of both Redwing and Fieldfare this winter, which is very pleasant. Some cropped photos from my time admiring the little beauties...

Autumn on Dartmoor

It's crisp and clear, the air has a tang to it, the wind chilly and strong enough to make you sniffle. The moorgrass has died off, earning it's alternative name of 'white grass'. We walk out from Postbridge, up on towards the North Moor over a juicy peat, covered with short-cropped sedges and grasses. A steady gentle climb up to a small stream, then a steeper path beside a bog of green-gold Sphagnum mosses interspersed with taller clumps of rush and sedge. We carry on into an increasingly stiff wind, which blows bands of cloud along it, so that long, linear shadows stream along the hillsides. Looking back towards Grimspound and Postbridge, the hazy light patterns the more distant tors and hillsides with a dusty silver-blue.

View to Grimspound

Looking to the North Moor

Looking with the light, the landscape almost looks two-dimensional, with a diffuse pattern of short trampled and cropped vegetation showing bright green still between the cream-buff swathes of dead moorgrass and mat-grass. The East Dart river makes a dark, stark contrast as it gurgles down off the high moor, studded with granite boulders. We drop down off the saddle toward the river, the peat underfoot firm, but squelching with water under every footfall.

After lunch, we wander back down the river to the waterfall - more a cascade than a proper fall by most standards, but respectable for the high moors. The East Dart rushes headlong over a lip of granite which is speckled dark with mosses and lichens, yet glinting bright in the sunshine with flecks of mica and quartz.

Na and clitter

Cascade

We follow the waters back downstream to the famous clapper bridge, across the face of a steep spur, grazed tight by belted galloway cattle and rampantly multicoloured sheep, through trampled peat which sucks at our boots as we slither across, over cropped heath which bounces under our feet, across precarious stepping-stones, and finally through in-bye land, fenced and semi-tame until we reach the clatter of motorhomes and families criss-crossing the river at Postbridge.

Multicoloured sheep

View back northwest from the valley of the East Dart

Must be winter...

Third bird from the front... please come forward.

There are Black-headed Gulls with proper foreign rings on , down by the Exe. A morning of bread-chucking produced 3 adult Swedish-ringed birds: 2 of which are returning birds from last winter, a Belgian-ringed adult, frustratingly with a bit of dead plant stuck to it's ring and obscuring a number, and a bird of the year from Finland. Some grotty cut & paste-work below for a couple of the rings.

ST241875 and T86?02: Finland and Brussels, respectively. Hopefully will get some data back on them at some point. With any luck...

Other bird life knocking around the river was generally much as expected: a Kingfisher whizzed past early on, Grey Wagtails 'zizzicked' along the banks at regular intervals and a steady trickle of migrant Redwings tseeped along overhead. Bird of the day though, had to be a group of five (count 'em!) Black-tailed Godwit feeding busily in the overflow between the Exe and the ship canal, effectively in the city centre. A nice record, if you ask me!

In the time-honoured tradition of going backwards in time, some recent ringing - last weekend at my parents' house we managed to catch a couple of these streaky little beasts:

Meadow Pipit

And the weekend before that, we finished up at Slapton. Not the most prolific end to the season, but a nice female Stonechat (bird of the year - you can just make out the new greater coverts lurking under the edge of the scapulars) - and all in all, a very productive season, with numbers of most species caught showing a healthy improvement on last year.

Stonechat

And the weekend before that, we had our Polterabend. More pictures to come in the fullness of time, but a brief look into the barn from about 10 at night for you here...:

Barking, unplugged

A shameless bit of self-promotion to begin with: I've been interviewed (scary) by Nick Hand, on his journey round the UK's coast - have a look at http://www.slowcoast.co.uk for what he's up to, and follow the link through to the soundslides for yours truly... Under Slapton Bird Ringers... It's for a cracking good cause, and the photos on there are great.

So. Above and beyond some mumbling for the dictaphones, have been out and about taking some pics and generally keeping myself busy: here, in chronological order...

Scumbag ducks at Slapton. The bunch of ganky farmyard escapes at Torcross has recently been augmented by this delightful group (har har) of Rouén Mallards - great for feeding bread to - let's face it, fattening them up for Christmas on fresh bread is no bad idea - but not much cop for anything else. Sorry.

Osprey, Erme estuary. This is one of this year's birds, presumably born in Scotland. No colour-rings though to give any clue as to origin. Pity. Becoming a traditional sight on South Devon estuaries in September now; instead of getting excited about Ospreys, we seem to be agitated when we don't see them!

To my shame, I have forgotten what these are. I know they're the fruiting bodies of a seaweed, sorry, marine alga, but I don't know which one. Just as you get an autumn flush of fungi, you seem to get a marine copycat version

Snakelocks anemone growing in kelp.

Bryozoans growing on kelp.

Yacht heading up the Kingsbridge. Just nice and photogenic, really.

After a bit of low-tide learning on the Kingsbridge, it was time to do some more Dormouse training. Clearly, they've never read the books. In the wake of the very terrestrial dormouse I nearly squashed on a road in Slovakia, here's an example of the species demonsrating it's highly nocturnal habits:

We found two Dormouse nests (with three animals in 'em) in the specially-sited, designed and attended boxes placed low in their favoured habitat. After that, we cleaned out the specially designed, placed and attended boxes that have been erected for Pied Flycatchers, where we found no fewer than six (count 'em) Dormouse nests, containing at least eight Dormice... One of the nests was even built on top of a Pied Flcatcher nest, so we hope the birds got away first!

Following that, we headed off to East Sussex, where Na and Judith spent some time avoiding the Weever-fish of the south coast. Either that or swimming to France. Or doing a Reggie Perrin.


Here you can see the effects of the dangerously dehydrating Crassula helmsii, the Australian (or New Zealand) Pigmyweed, a plant so water-hungry that it leaves the entire Australian conitnent teetering on the brink of drought. The only solution is to cover it in gravel and allow deer in to nibble away the growing shoots - clearly impractical on a landmass as large as Australia. Or something.
In fact, the valley has a problem with invasive Crassula, as a result of which the scrapes have been drained and dried, to try and prevent it blanketing everything. Nasty invasive stuff.

Finally, for anyone out there who likes gulls, here's a rather odd-looking thing from Prawle on Tuesday. A Lesser Black-back with pink legs? Hybrid Great Black-back and Herring? Something rare? I don't really think I care any longer.


No flight shots; sorry.

Year of the Cett'

This is the year of the Cetti at Slapton. They first turned up in the nets back in the late 1970s, about a year before I was born, to be as precise as I wish to be. Since then the number ringed each year has described the sort of upwards trend you'd associate with a profile of - well, of somewhere fairly gentle. Not Lincolnshire - that's flatline flat - but perhaps if someone really heavy sat on the western border of Lincolnshire and the eastern side rose in sympathy, that sort of incline. Anyway, this year, it's as if the north face of the Eiger has suddenly been shunted into Lincolnshire - we've had over a hundred (count 'em!) Cetti's in the nets, over 60 of which are new birds. And there's still a good month left to the season...

Otherwise, we had the pleasant surprise of a Lesser Whitethroat in the nets last weekend, along with over a hundred Chiffchaff (no less than 99 new birds, plus a handful of recaptures from previous weekends' efforts). This season has turned into a very decent year in general, Swallow roosts aside, suggesting that we've finally had a good breeding season to repair some of the damage of the last two or three. About time...

Lesser Whitethroat

Yellow Wagtail. Not the easiest to age in the hand, this bird appears to be a first-winter male

This weekend began with some promise: a Yellow Wagtail caught in the alba wagtail roost is the first we've caught for a couple of years, but Saturday brought disastrously windy weather - we managed, somehow, to open a handful of nets on Saturday morning for the paltry return of 18 birds. The day was so quiet, we ended up photographing spiders...:


The day was rescued when the wind dropped in the evening and about 40 Swallows were ringed out of a passage of a couple of thousand; still no roost, though. Fortunately the weather was more clement this morning. We opened up at a civilised 6.15 and the catch was quite steady. Nothing spectacular until a Tawny Owl decided that night-time was for wusses and dived into one of our reedbed nets mid-morning. Spectacularly, this is only the fourth Tawny to be ringed here: the last one was in 1966! Much appreciated...

Tawny Owl. What a cracking bird in the hand, or out of it... Photo courtesy of Tim Frayling