Skirr Cottage Diary.

“There’s nowt about, shall we go?” said the birder to his mate. I was sat in a bird hide at Tittesworth Reservoir with who we could call two ‘heavy’ Staffordshire birders. They were Belstaffed –up and bristling with the latest gear: a camera with a dust bin for a lens, Swarovski scopes and bins and a rather superior attitude to match, as they never offered to even pass the time of day. Within minutes they had grabbed their gear and marched out. This is an attitude I’ve come across quite often recently in various nature reserves around the country. It seems that if it’s not rare or at least uncommon – it’s not worth looking at!! I settled down to watch the lapwings on the rocky island reminding myself what great looking birds they are. Among them I found a sleeping oystercatcher. Over in the bay four goosanders bobbed and dived and were joined by a pochard and some tufted duck splendid in the sunlight. There were cormorants on the scaffold and some wigeon over by the sunlit reeds. Suddenly in the alders by the hide, a tribe of long-tailed tits erupted performing their acrobatics among the branches. A willow tit appeared, stealing a peanut from a nearby feeding cage. House sparrows are on the red list, lapwings have declined incredibly, and willow tits are far from common. If you are a birder all birds should be important – and there is very rarely “nowt about.”

The Memory of Owls.

I do not wish to wake the sleeping owls
Who slumber in the pines locked in feathered dream;
I just wish to wander beneath the leafy trees
And gather their spirit to my breast
And take solace from their stoic existence.
I wish to sit by the little brook
And let its chatter fill my conciousness;
Count the finny trout of my youth,
Lament the loss of the bank voles
And watch the dapple sun
Play on the sparkling silver water
Of the stone dam we built as kids.
I wish to search for the blue and white
Pottery shards among the ochre stained stones,
Fill my pockets with treasure
My head with memories,
Then creep away
Leaving the tawny dreamers in  peace,
Till the shadows rinse away the light,
Till twilight stirs their wakefulness.

Skirr Cottage Diary.

A cold but sunny day in Buxton and a short walk to an area on the edge of Buxton called Lightwood. Fairly quiet on the bird front until a pair of ravens appear over the woods croaking their deep calls that seemed to cut through the silence like a returning ancient echo. Both birds flew over the valley heading for a large copse named locally as Cuckoo Wood, to return a little time later both carrying large twigs in their large black bills. Their purposed nest site could not have been faraway for minutes later they returned to follow the same ‘crow path’ over the trees and valley. It is not yet spring but I feel its not too far around the corner.

Churnet Valley Canal.

The canal is rather unique as it becomes a river for a while. The valley here is so narrow that Consall Station over-hangs the water held up by supports.

Skirr Cottage Diary.

Lovely walk from Churnet Valley  Station near Cheddleton, with friend Steve, following the canal and river as far as the Black Lion. The day before saw the remnants of hurricane Imogen lashing the trees and sending a forceful torrent down the hill where I live. To wake up to sunshine and a still day with a song thrush singing in the sycamore was a much needed tonic. Although the canal tow path was very muddy in places the wildlife certainly made up for it. Buzzards quickly made their presence felt circling over the trees on the hillside. It proved a rare event not to spot a buzzard every fifteen minutes or so. While watching these birds an even more exciting bird of prey flew among them; a peregrine falcon with its familiar anchor shape came into view. We watched it stoop rather half heartedly, possibly scaring the wood pigeons, then rise up from a shallow valley, circle round a few times then disappear over the tree-lined hillside. On route we watched treecreepers inspecting the alders, circling round the trunks like little acrobats. A grey wagtail was seen and a fine male bullfinch both new birds for the year.  Goldfinch, song thrush and long-tailed tits and other members of the tit tribe abounded. It was good to be on the tow path during the week because it was almost deserted and we seemed to have it all to ourselves: that is when we spotted a very lithe mammal on the opposite bank among the alders, birch and crumpled reeds. The creature was light brown and grey with a rather indistinct bandit mask. We had good views of the creature through binoculars as it made its way very unconcerned or totally oblivious of our presence down the far bank, finally disappearing into the thicket of tired grasses and reeds. In our excitement we thought we had seen a polecat, but on study of the web once back home I would say it a polecat-ferret (mustela putorius), a great sighting nonetheless. 

Rudyard Lake, Staffordshire.

Rudyard Lake.

Skirr Cottage Diary.

Today, with encouragement from my wife, I managed a walk around Rudyard Lake, near Leek. Expecting it to rain all day it proved a bonus to wake to perhaps not sunshine but at least a bright sky. While having a mug of tea in the cafe’ at the head of the lake a buzzard came into view drifting over the nearby pine trees. Following the miniature railway track the woodland verge appeared vey quiet although nuthatch and great tit were heard. On the lake two great-crested grebes were busy diving, still sporting winter plumage. Then a small group of goosander came into view, mainly male but two females in the party beautiful in sharp winter sunlight. They were to be spotted again later. The goosander is a large diving duck, a member of the sawbill family. The male has a gorgeous metallic green head and neck while the female or red head looks very similar to a red-breasted merganser. At the bottom end and shallower part of the lake there is a little stone bridge over the sluggish river that flows out of the lake: a good sitting place to dig out the flask and watch the small birds come down to use the feeders someone kindly hangs from the alders beside the bridge. It is great to watch the tit tribe including long-tailed tits flit among the thin branches then take their food into the willows among the nearby sunlit, crumpled golden reeds. Nuthatch, reed buntings and other woodland birds can be seen here, but best of all are the willow tits with their sooty black caps and untidy black bibs, they are always a delight to see. The walk from the bridge back to the village is lovely, alders creeping into lake, mature beech trees, tangled ivy growing up old stumps and plenty of holly trees. In spring these woods become alive with the call of the chiff-chaff and later with willow warblers. Of course we didn’t completely escape the rain – in this case rain then hailstones. Luckily it quickly passed over and we completed the walk relatively dry.