Unentailed

A blowsy, blustery day with the sort of brisk northwest wind that billows round you and leaps out at you from gaps in the gorse to leave you breathlessly exhilarated. We walked along Maughold Head to have a look for Puffins, but no sign of any today - just Fulmars whirling along the cliff edge in effortless loops, Tysties trilling on the water below and a big bull Grey Seal porpoising through the chop towards Ramsey.

We followed the coast path to the Cormorant colony, where paired and single birds sat darkly ungainly on the bright green turf. They look rather uninterestingly black from a distance in the cloud-shadow, though white patches at thigh and chin catch the eye, but creep closer to them and as soon as the sun strikes through you are faced with a surprisingly attractive bird.

Despite their antics, with the sun in, Cormorants are - well, frankly, a little dull-looking...

The black feathers prove glossy with hints of purple and green as the light catches them from different angles, white feathers grizzle the black on the back of their heads and their wings are a coppery bronze, each feather edged neatly with black. Closer still you can appreciate the ice-cold jade eyes, which regard you with wariness, a mild concern at your approach.

...but with the sun on them it's a different story.

Lie down in the bracken debris and watch, and their stretched necks relax back into a curve, the tufty crest on their nape settles down a little and they return to the important business of preening, pair-bonding and rearranging any nest material which has been brought in. No eggs yet this year - late, but not surprising in view of the cold late spring - but birds were flying in now and then, trailing vegetation in their bills, so the breeding season's getting well under way at last.

We strolled back to the car with the wind at our backs, pushing past the clumps of coconut-scented gorse, with Choughs bouncing through the air above us, filling the sky with wheezy 'ciao's. It's nice to be back on the Isle of Man!

Moss rolls down ivy stems and across the drystone walls on Maughold Head.

North Barrule from Maughold Head

Looking south along the east coast of the Isle of Man.

Grey skies

Somewhat like the plants in our garden, words burst into tentative life on the blog - apologies for the protracted silence! Just a short selection of things going on and observations to start with...

It seems as if we've had a permanent veil over the sky since October. We haven't, because our solar panels have been registering a regular spike in output every week or so (!), but it does feel like an eternally grey winter. Nevertheless, there are some signs that spring's on the way. The plants in both woods and garden have pushed out some perhaps optimistic shoots: Elder, Pignut and Perennial Dog's-mercury in the woods, Snowdrop, crocus, daffodils and Rhubarb in the garden. The latter  in particular seems to have been stalled by the past week's dip in temperature, so the ruby-red stalks and crinkly green leaves are still only half-way extended. We'll have a while to wait until we can have rhubarb crumble again!

The birds are hinting - and more than hinting - at a change in season too. Blackbirds have been tuning up for a few days now, with Robins, Dunnocks and both Song and Mistle Thrush going at it hammer and tongs in the morning. Cycling to Yarner recently added Chaffinch, Nuthatch and Green Woodpecker to the years' new songsters as well, so perhaps there will be blue skies again sometime soon. A pair of Blue Tits have been busily investigating the nestboxes we've provided on the extension (meant for sparrows, but we don't mind who uses them really), so hopefully we'll have a successful nest this year.

We were privileged last weekend to have a small flock of Waxwings at the end of the garden. A fabulous bird to have on the garden list when you live this far southwest. They spent a lot of their time sat in the oaks just across from our kitchen, making sallies into someone's back garden where they'd found a supply of red berries of some description; they would drop down, spend a few minutes stocking up and then sail back to the top of an oak, often with berry in bill, to sit and digest for a few minutes. They also spent some time picking at the buds at the top of the trees, though it was impossible to see what was of interest - any fragments were too small to be identified even through the telescope, so whether insects (most likely) or sap, or leafbud, will remain a mystery.

I'm also slightly intrigued that they seem to show so little interest in mistletoe when they're here in Britain. In Austria, where there is admittedly a far higher density of mistletoe than around here, I've seen flocks of Waxwings up to several hundred strong busily engaged in stripping mistletoe (causing apoplectic fury in the Mistle Thrushes), yet they seem wedded to red berries here - or apples.

Roll on summertime...!

Bohemian Waxwings. Slightly fuzzy due to being photographed through the 'scope at 1/30th of a second and on high ISO. Told you it was dark & grey...

Pictures of spring: Bovey Tracey

Comma butterfly. Presumably an overwintering adult - the forewings are looking a bit worn and faded, nectaring on Celandines next to the river Bovey.

River Bovey at Wilford Bridge, looking downstream into Parke.

Nice garden-escape anemone species (it grows in our garden too) amongst Celandines on the banks of the river Bovey

Green Alkanet

Magnolia, or: 'Spot the Robin'

Shining Cranesbill - a common hedgerow plant in this part of the world, but one which I really enjoy. The button-like shocking-pink flowers are outstanding amongst the vivid shining green leaves, and it somehow always looks fresh and clean, even in the height of summer.

Primroses and Celandines, splashing yellow along the foot of the hedges

Common Dog-violet, with Yarrow and Ivy-leaved Speedwell, injecting a tint of blue to the vegetation

Barren Strawberry growing amongst Yarrow on a dry bank

Honeybee on Grape-hyacinth in the garden. These flowers are absolutely heaving with honeybees at the moment, whilst the bumblebees seem to be concentrating on Rosemary flowers. The mass of tulips next to these Grape-hyacinths are attracting a large number of hoverflies and tiny beetles, all of which seem to be eating pollen. Nice to do the wildlife-watching the lazy way and sit on the doorstep!

Gratuitous picture of Sabina, to prove that she's doing very well, thankyou, and enjoying her second bird-ringing session on the moors. And that her sunhat's currently too big.

Spring is springing well and truly here in Devon. We've been up to our eyeballs and beyond in learning how to cope with an infant, and consequently not been out and about as much as once we would. Funny that.

Anyway, after a shockingly bad night's sleep, I left Na to sleep off her cold this afternoon and took young Sabina up through the woods to see what was happening in the world around us. After a bit of a cold snap over the past couple of days, it was nice to be out in warm weather. The birds have been triggered by the rising temperatures and longer days, so even though it was early afternoon the air was sweet with the songs of Blackbird, Robin, Mistle Thrush and Chaffinch, whilst Great and Blue Tits chucked in their two-pennorth (I just can't bring myself to describe their songs as 'sweet', though they're undeniably pleasant to hear).

Along the river we managed to find a  Dipper singing and feeding in the riffles, so spent some time enjoying the sight of him wading energetically into the water, ducking down to search for invertebrates, then shrugging under the surface for a moment, only to reappear close by - either bobbing along the stones in the same unhurried fashion, or, in the deeper patches, popping to the surface like a cork and swimming along for a brief moment before flying to a nearby rock.

Argh! Not another walk! Why do you do this to me?

The river Bovey at Parke

The floor of the woods is a rapidly burgeoning carpet of green, as Pignut, Celandine, Dog's-mercury and Primrose surge into leaf, with the arrowhead leaves of Cuckoo-pint emerging in glossy, spiky clumps here and there. You could generally be forgiven for wondering why they are called Arum maculatum, until every so often you come across an absolute beauty with deep purple blotches sprayed across the rich green gloss of the leaves. It won't be long before the flowers emerge with their pale greenish-white bracts hooding the flower-spike.

Pignut (feathery leaves), Wild Strawberry (trefoil leaves), Lesser Celandine (heart-shaped leaves) claiming the open soil for the early part of the season.

Beech trunk covered with mosses (mainly Hypnum andoi) and lichens

The bulk of the green in the ground layer is still found in the ferns and mosses though; it's still somewhat surprising to realise how many species are involved in a reasonably varied bit of woodland here: testament to the generally moist climate we live in here.

Primroses; a splash of delicate colour to welcome the warmer weather in.

Another of the species making up the carpet: Wild Garlic, or Ramsons

Cuckoo-pint deserving the name 'maculatum'

Red-flushed ivy leaves on a post along the old railway line

Polypody, one of the commoner ferns in this part of the world; but which species? Difficult without a microscope, but perhaps Polypodium interjectum and P. vulgare - or more likely a hybrid between the two!

Polypody doing a semi-passable impression of Hard Fern

Above the green field layer the Hazels are already flowering, sprays of catkins covering most of the trees, and the first of the young Sycamores and Elders are bursting into leaf. Above these shrubby trees, the canopy trees proper are still tightly bound into bud, and we spent a while looking at the various patterns and colours of the shoot tips (reassuring myself that I can still identify them in their dormant state!).

The old railway line through Parke, glowing in the afternoon sun with Dog's-mercury along the sides of the track.

TO...YP

It's turned noisy in the garden now. The air is filled with a shrill insistent demanding whine, as recently-fledged Blue, Great and Coal Tits work a determined line along the trees and through the veg. The potatoes seem to be particularly favoured at the moment, which leads me to suppose that there is some sort of insect food to be had there - perhaps the aphids have found the potatoes themselves and are now being snacked on by the growing birds.

Moving out to the edge of the moors, and the situation is similar, though the number of birds out in the scrub is greater still. The addition of broods of Marsh, Long-tailed and Willow Tits, and the first fledgling Chiffchaffs, as well as a smattering of Robins makes the willow scrub echo with begging calls first thing in the morning. The grass has grown appreciably in the last month, and the first flowers of Creeping Soft-grass - Holcus mollis - are showing. Ragged-robin and Yellow Flag-iris raise patches of shocking pink and yellow flowers up above the green on occasion; the former is something of a magnet for Small Pearl-bordered Fritillary butterflies at the moment, creating an outrageous clash of vivid pink and orange which somehow seems to look perfect.

Small Pearl-bordered Fritillary amongst Ragged-robin. The butterfly is mid-way between meals, which is why it's not sharp.

Maturing Large Red Damsel. Everything's in the throes of growing up and/or breeding at present. It's a fabulous time of year.

The Pied Flycatchers are also fledging in the woods. One, or perhaps two, more visits and we'll be finished with them for the year - it's frightening how quickly the season goes in many respects. Nice to see that we've again had a good breeding season for them this year (so far!) and we can hope for a good number of returning birds next year, all things being equal.

Pied Flycatcher and young. The youngsters at this stage haven't yet got to their full feathered state, so look like a cross between gawky teenager and Sesame Street character.

Male House Sparrow framed amongst the remains of our old kitchen

Housing... and signs of spring!

No exciting photos, no exciting birding, no exciting travelling. We've just bought a house and I've been flat out for what seems like months, ably assisted by Arturo early on and Na when she returned from her scholarship trip to Germany & The Netherlands. We've not moved far, but the house has taken up a lot of our time & effort... Pictures may follow.

Some brief walks out into paint-free air and a little bit of deep thought in the office have produced some spring migrant birds pushing north: Sand Martin and Swallow trickling up the Exe, though the first ones only in the past week; with singing Chiffchaff and Blackcap at home making the woods next door sound a little warmer. I was also dragged out to do my second Willow Tit survey of the season, which again resulted in no birds found - though a Marsh Tit responded vigorously to the tape prompt! Bird of the day was in fact this rather handsome Common Toad (Bufo bufo), which I narrowly missed with my girt great feet.

For the birdy reader, our garden list already stands at some 30-odd species - best so far being a drake Mandarin high-tailing it up the river. At some point I'll get round to working out which plant species we have here as well, but the garden's pretty shabby and needs some work to be able to get round it sensibly.

Spring's over - summer's here. It's official.

Bit of recent birding - went down to Cornwall over the Easter weekend (I know, a long time back, but I've been nose-to-the-grindstone ever since). Ringed at a friend's site, catching a good number of these:

Chiffchaff

and these:

Willow Warbler

as well as a few Blackcaps and standard local bits & bobs. Nice way to spend Easter, though perhaps camping wasn't the best idea in the world - a sharp frost on Easter morning left us feeling a wee bit sleep-deprived. C'est la vie. Afternoons were spent wandering the clifftops in glorious sunshine, on one occasion being surrounded by a crowd of curious locals:

Miniature highland cattle, no less, looking as if they're about to release a new album (moosic! Ha! couldn't resist that - sorry...)

Anyway, the weather and the views were fantastic - this is Cape Cornwall from Kenidjack valley:



This a more zoomed-out view of the same bit. The perceptive amongst you will have noticed the air ambulance lurking at the bottom of the cliffs, where they carefully dropped in to rescue a rather luckless woman who appeared to have broken her leg. Was a very impressive bit of helicoptering to get in and out again safely.

Back to the scenery - this is Land's End from the cliffs at Porthgwarra, looking absolutely stunning. The gorse seemed overloaded with flower this year, which made the air seem sticky with the scent of coconut when we were traipsing past banks of the stuff in the valleys.

Since then, I've been out on breeding bird atlas duty, finding a rather satisfying 47 species on the one square, including a couple of Woodlark, Little Owl and Bullfinch doing some rather intimate courtship, as well as a singing Redwing - assume that's a bird that can't be arsed going back north yet. Never know though - I'll be keeping an eye on that one!

Yesterday was a breeding wader survey on my standard Somerset site, producing the trad. pair of Lapwing, a couple of Snipe and a small pack of Whimbrel feeding up on their way to the tundra. I also had a couple of singing Lesser Whitethroat, with several fields liberally spattered with Yellow Wagtails. Always amazes me how they glow when they are in fresh spring plumage - something like the way adult Gannets always appear to have just come out of a washing-powder advert, they're so crisp and clean-looking. Anyway... The first Swift of the year was a welcome sight as well.

Today was a chance to spend some time birding for the sake of it again, so headed up to Yarner with a friend to scout out some migrants. We did nicely in the end, with Blackcap, Willow Warbler and Chiffchaff all singing their heads off (messy), a Garden Warbler providing a bit of cool melody, Wood Warblers spinning coins incessantly in the trees, a handful of Pied Flycatchers, a cuckooing Cuckoo, Swallows, House Martins and the odd Tree Pipit here and there. Birds of the day (for one of us, anyhow!) were probably a trio of Mandarin that hurtled north over us at the Trendlebeare carpark, shortly followed by a Lesser Spotted Woodpecker headed in the other direction! Again, a single Swift rounded the day off quite pleasurably... That's two, so summer's official now (sorry Mark!)

Anyway, the final bit of news for the time being is that the spring weather at Easter quite turned my head, to the point of offering to make an honest woman of the mysterious 'N', who was daft enough to accept my offer. Not sure if it's yet sunk in, but I'm quite looking forward to a new chapter in life now...

Finally, before I forget, my friend Nik's off to 'work' in Australia for a year: apparently no shackles are involved, so this seems like a good place to wish you the best of luck whilst you're out there... Will keep you posted here on Devon happenings. Occasionally.

Spring (it's all about sex, innit?)

Here we are again. Well. The Willow Tit survey is proving to be quite interesting: three positives so far from the 5 woodlands surveyed, with another two sets of woods to be searched this weekend: seems like the elusive little blighters aren't yet gone from the moors (OK, with perhaps the honourable exception of the Fernworthy birds). Good stuff.

Started surveys for woodlands for Devon's contribution to the national Bechstein's Bat survey as well - my two 10km squares being up near Crediton (they'm funny up there) and proving to have little in the way of woodland, let alone interesting old woodland with water, old oak/ash canopy and abundant ground flora with plenty of hazel in it. Oh well. Did what I could, and we'll just have to see what happens come the actual nights out!

So, on to the sex... We managed to have a bit of a wander up at Steps Bridge recently, to see the wild daffodils in their glory: they were looking pretty dashing, I have to say. The wild daffs are able to reproduce by seed, so have to pimp themselves to bees and flies, whilst the average garden gank doesn't (I assume the ability has been bred out of them). So, what with the abundance of daffs and other wild flowers out there at the weekend and the longer days stimulating the local birds into some sort of sexual frenzy, the woods were a bit of a seething mass of reproduction...

Daffodils pimping themselves in the woods: always looking for a passing bee...

Na, ignoring the tide of floral filth swamping the woods

Our geeky challenge of identifying every plant we possibly can has become more rewarding, as the annuals come out to play again. We're going to have to get serious at identifying grasses, ferns and mosses this year though. That'll be a bit more of a challenge!

Other signs of spring that we've seen: Ravens carrying food to nests, Blackbirds ditto; the local Peregrines are on eggs too, by the look of it. More sex. Stacks of flowers out there now, from Lesser Celandine and Annual Dog's-mercury through to Climbing Corydalis and even the first Bluebell at Slapton a couple of weekends back! Everywhere you look... Mary Whitehouse, eat your heart out.

Cosmic snot is out and about: always nice to see...

In case you don't know, it's also relevant: this is (I'm reliably informed) actually unfertilised frogspawn, presumably dumped by a female frog who couldn't hold it.

We also managed a walk along the less fashionable end of Lustleigh Cleave, where again, the woods were a bit steamy. I couldn't be bothered taking any more pics beyond what you can see below though.

The river Bovey tripping through the booulders near the head of the woods. No, I don't know what the moss is (but there's loads of Rhytidiadelphus on the woodland floor nearby - try that name with your teeth out!)

Best thing since sliced bread, apparently. Surely there's a better thing than sliced bread as a baseline?