puddleshark

Met up with C. and her terrier for a walk by the harbour at Arne in the January sunshine. The water silver, still as glass. Cormorants and grebes performing vanishing tricks through a mirror.

I didn't get any good photos, but the light was gorgeous - you cannot take light for granted in January - and the harbour was very quiet, just the calling of the wading birds, or the splash of a rower passing by. Afterwards, coffee and cake at the café, sitting outside, the terrier curled in C.s lap, half-dozing in the sun, waking just enough to grumble halfheartedly at other dogs passing by.

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Spoonbills. For a few years now, there has been a wintering population of Spoonbills out on the harbour, but they are usually just tiny white dots, snoozing with their heads tucked in, on the mudflats in the far distance. It was lovely to have such a close sighting.

( And the usual suspects )

After weeks of gales, finally the wind has dropped. A quiet grey drizzly sort of morning, with all the distances blurred.

Went to Arne, and walked down to the edge of the harbour at Shipstal Point. The summer tourist season is over, and, for the first few hours, I had the reserve to myself.

( Unexpected encounter )

Followed the path beside the River Frome down to Swineham, through the reedbeds, where the breeze sets the whole landscape in motion, and you walk in a world of half-seen things and unseen things. The rattle of dragonfly flight, and a glint of sunlight on wings. The endless pent-up grumbling ("And another thing...") song of Reed Warblers. A black-capped Reed Bunting clinging to a reed as it sways back and forth in the wind - now you see it, now you don't.

( Don't get your hopes up. It's hard to photograph half-seen things... )

The sky is blue and the wind is full of ~~fairies~~ willow fluff, drifting wherever the wind takes it.

Out in the forest, cuckoos are calling, somewhere in the far distance. Woodlarks are singing their eerie fluting songs. Dartford Warblers perch on top of gorse bushes, give a quick burst of scratchy gorse-prickle song, then are gone again.

On the heath, Tree Pipits are staking their territory with rapid-fire bursts of song from the very top of isolated trees, but are yet to start making their slow motion parachuting songflights.

Last week, I met the Lady with the Rottweiler in the forest and we chatted. ("He's friendly. I put him on the lead because not everyone wants a slobbery Rottweiler kiss.")

I walk on autopilot in the evenings, forgetting that the old path is now blocked with barbed wire and having to retrace my steps. How long will it take my feet to learn to walk the new path without my brain interceding?

Hazy sunshine. Glaring white sky. A cold east wind. ( Read more... )

A grey drizzly Christmas morning. No wind. Very mild. Took a walk across the heath at Middlebere, out to the edge of the harbour. ( Read more... )

Another one of those no-light November days. Cheerless. That's my excuse for not heading out on an expedition today, anyway.

I did manage a walk around the forest, in the dank and chill, picking my way round the puddles. Flocks of Serins calling in the tops of the pines. Dartford Warblers scolding from somewhere in the gorse. And a wonderful young Boxer dog with a splendid tail came up to me to say hello, and investigate whether I had any treats in my pocketses.

I had booked a couple of days off work this week, planning to head over the Somerset Levels again, to try and see a Starling murmuration at one of the nature reserves. But then Storm Conall dumped a tremendous amount of rain on us on its way over to the Netherlands on Tuesday night, and there was news on the radio that the Langport to Muchelney road was underwater, so I changed my plans, stayed home. I found it hard enough to navigate the Levels when all the roads were open.

***

Took a walk at Arne yesterday, following the Raptor Trail, and sat for a while in the hide overlooking Middlebere Channel, one of the inlets of Poole Harbour. It was lovely. The wide expanse of shallow shining water. The whistling of distant ducks. The fluting calls of the wading birds.

Saw Shelducks, a Peregrine Falcon, and a Kestrel, but it was one of those days when none of my photos came out well.

I have been to Avalon, on holiday...

( Avalon marshes )

10 degrees C first thing. Blessedly cool. I celebrated by following the chalk track along St Aldhelm's Head to the sea.

( Blue sky, white path )

Four-spotted Chaser (Libellula quadrimaculata).

Of all the places I visited during my few days in Cambridgeshire, my absolute favourite was Wicken Fen.

( Through the reedbeds... )

( Of woods, watery paths, & cake )

Just before sunrise, two hobbies making a high-speed pass over the forest, above the treetops. A parent and a youngster maybe, from their noisy contact calls?

February sunshine, warm enough to tempt a walker to unzip his or her coat. Took the track to Middlebere Farm, a scattering of barns and cottages on a finger of high land between two inlets of Poole Harbour. The first lambs in the fields. Also, hairy beasties.

( Reeds & woods & water )

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Belle, a Chilean Blue eagle.

( Hawks & Owls )

On sheltered banks at the foot of the hill, queen bees go rumbling by: a stately flight of exploration, searching for of a suitable nest.

At the weekend, I took a walk along the underhill path in search of primroses, bee-flies, oil beetles, other signs of spring.

( Read more... )

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Entries tagged with birds

Arne in January

At Arne

Arne & the White-tailed Eagle

Half-seen things

Fluffy willows, fluffy brain

In pursuit of Spring

Middlebere

(no subject)

Avalon

Skylark Alley

Wicken Fen

April greenery

Hobbies

Middlebere

Starlings, St Aldhelm's Head

Dorset Falconry Park

Spring along the Underhill

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January 2026

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