Thanks fur the memories

It is with a heavy heart that I have to relay the sad news that Hodge, the guinea pig, who first featured on this blog back in the spring, sadly passed away earlier this evening. I arrived home to find two inconsolable children shedding great lumps of tears at his loss. In a cruel twist, it was the younger son's pet who perished, having jumped out of his older brother's hands and fallen from height in an ill-fated bid for freedom. So as well as the trauma, the seeds of fraternal resentment may also have been sown in that moment. I hope not, I never resented my own brother for anything worse than making my Lego at Christmas before I had the chance to. But that was years ago now, 2 or 3 anyway, so it's virtually forgotten.

Hodge: much loved, he will be sorely missed

The children were allowed to play on the Xbox this evening by their mother as a special treat. 'Do you think that will cheer you up?' I asked. 'No, but it might help take my mind off it a bit' sobbed one, craning his neck to peer over my shoulder and focus on his counter attack on FIFA 15, as I attempted to be a supportive dad. The other one didn't seem any happier by the end of the game, his World Legends XI having been soundly beaten by Arsenal. Probably not the best therapy, with hindsight, in his fragile emotional state.

As for Hodge, well, he has been lying in state on an armchair, wrapped in his favourite towel, almost too long for me to be entirely comfortable, though I daren't say so for fear of being accused of insensitivity. For similar reasons, options for the funeral have yet to be broached. The garden's a bit small, and it would really rub salt in if we got up one morning to find him excavated by a fox. The well travelled Steve Smith suggested a sky burial, Tibetan style. Thanks Steve, but with the Wareham vulture population being what it is, I think we'll pass on that. I would prefer interment on a grassy plain, in keeping with the natural habitat of his genetic ancestors, but pampas is a pretty scarce habitat in Dorset. Ultimately, of course, it won't be up to me, and I fear nothing less than a full gun carriage to Westminster Abbey will be contemplated by his bereaved owner.

To be perfectly honest, I never really wanted the kids to have pets, partly to protect them from this kind of upset, but to be fair they have looked after the little critters really well and showed no sign of getting bored of the daily slopping out and grooming routines as I had expected. So I really am feeling for them, despite having teased about their furry charges on occasion via this medium. And, after a suitable period of mourning, I hope eventually to be able to add to the photo year list again.

OK, mourning over.

What, too soon?

A twirl around the Radipole Lake car park on Sunday, visited after my pipit-bothering session, added some ballast to the photo year list: Common Gull #29

No Caspo, unlike my last visit, just a Herring Gull #30

Lesser Black-backed Gull #31

A reliable spot for Mediterranean Gull #32

Pied Wagtail-Gull #33

 

Cramming

Despite having emptied the brownie point jar, and then pawned the jar itself, to dip on a partridge of dubious parentage on 2nd Jan, my family took pity and allowed me to cram as much birding as possible in to the last weekend of the Christmas holiday before I had to return to work this week. Of light, there was none; of birds, there were plenty. That's my excuse anyway for a large collection of not very good photos of a diversity of species below.

Sanderling, Sandbanks

Sanderling Sandbanks

Two Spoonbills still close in to the end of the PC World drain in Holes Bay

Spoonbill, Holes Bay

Spotted Redshank near the Spoonbill

Leaving no stone unturned

I gather young Joe Mitchell is doing a photo year list for 2015 and, needing an additional incentive to get out myself at the moment, I'm thinking of following suit. If I don't get out as much as I hope, it could all end in frustration and I'll pretend I never tried. But if all goes well, it will be interesting to see how I get on. So apologies if a larger than usual amount of trash starts appearing in this portal over the coming months. Usual rules for photo lists are that the photo doesn't have to be great but the species does have to be identifiable, so while I will aspire to doing better than just identifiable, there will be times when I will probably settle for it. Like now. 14 already posted this year, plus 3 above, so the numbering starts here at #18.

Shag, Sandbanks #18

Bar-tailed Godwit, Shore Road #19

Curlew, Shore Road #20

Little Egret, Holes Bay #21

Meadow Pipit, Studland #22

Rock Pipit, Sandbanks #23 - 4th pipit photographed this year. Only Tree, Water, Tawny, Olive-backed, Buff-bellied, Red-throated and Pechora to go...

Sorry to end on a sour note (have you not read this blog before?) but I was reminded of one of the perils of wildlife photography when taking one of these pictures: getting low to the ground to photograph Sanderlings at Sandbanks, I discovered to my dismay that I had been lying in dog waste. This wasn't innocently lost in the sand stuff either, it was at the end of one of the fancy flat-topped groynes about which I wrote in December. Come on people, bag it and bin it, it's gross.


Black-necked Grebe, Studland #24

Red-necked Grebe, Studland #25

A redhead Smew was a surprise bird in Holes Bay - here sandwiched between two female Goldeneye #26

Smart bird, the Smew

Drake Wigeon in Holes Bay - one of over 300 present on Sunday #27

Dark-bellied Brent Goose, Studland #28

No Sanderlings on Studland Beach. Can't think why.

Godlewski's and Vieillot's: on my year list

After missing a born-out-of-wedlock turkey yesterday, today was a day to reacquaint myself with the family and take a trip to the SeaLife Centre in Weymouth, courtesy of free tickets from Auntie Anj (thanks Anj). The SeaLife Centre is conveniently close to Bowleaze Cove where a Richard's Pipit is spending the winter, so it would have been exceptionally bad manners not to pop in there first.

Richard's Pipit: my favourite shot of the day - the windswept look

A more classic profile - note the long legs, tail and supercilium

While quite easy to locate thanks to its distinctive call, paler appearance and larger size relative to the Meadow Pipits with which it is loosely associating, the Pipit does not allow a very close approach so it took a lot of patience and wet knees to get close enough for a few shots. A definite improvement though on my first attempt last month.

A heavy, thrush-like bill visible here...

Compare to the daintier bill of yesterday's Blyth's. The dark mantle stripes are also more solid and neat - more jagged in the Richard's. Supercilium also shorter.

So having two rare pipits, Blyth's from Mongolia and Richard's from Siberia, on my year list is not a bad start to 2015 after all. Both are named after 19th century naturalists though of the two, Edward Blyth has more of a birding pedigree: the English zoologist has about 16 species named after him; the French naturalist Richard of Luneville just the one, and even that was described not by him but by his countryman Vieillot, who just named it after Richard in tribute.

Another look at that large bill

The long tail in bouncing flight gave a wagtail-like impression

Blyth's Pipit is also known as Godlewski's Pipit, after another 19th century zoologist, this one Polish, so but for some ancient argy-bargy at the Linnean Society, I could have been looking at Godlewski's and Vieillot's Pipits over the last couple of days. Not as easy to pronounce as Blyth's and Richard's, but certainly worth more in Scrabble. 

Field guides highlight the differences in median coverts as a good way of differentiating Richard's from Blyth's: on Richard's (this picture) the dark centres are more triangular and diffuse...

...in Blyth's the dark centres are squarer and more sharply defined. There is also more contrast in median and greater coverts creating more distinct wingbars, though this is perhaps accentuated in these shots by the sunny conditions yesterday for the Blyth's, and the complete absence of any sun today for the Richard's.

Don't let the bustard get you down

That's what I had to tell myself this morning when it became clear that the chance of adding Little Bustard to my British list had slipped away, or become fox-food, overnight. While the rest of twitch-kind spent New Year's Day hot-footing it to East Yorkshire, I was stuck at home in Dorset, 'on call' for emergencies, one of the additional privileges of rank which I now get to enjoy.

Blyth's Pipit, Calder Park - quite a leggy bird with neat mantle stripes

Showing shortish hindclaw (shorter than Richard's)

Plenty of artillery still lined up for the Pipit

It was the first time I'd been on call, and as it was only for 2 days over the turn of the year I figured that would be as safe a time as any to be out of circulation. Unfortunately, both days were the only ones on which the Bustard chose to be twitchable. As well as not being able to leave the county, I was unable to drink, so drowning my sorrows was not an option. Plus I had to be within an hour of HQ, so I couldn't even join other Dorset birders on a New Year birdboat around Poole Harbour. So much for that well meaning New Year resolution in my last post to be more positive about life. Well let me tell you, people, positive sucks!

Blue Tit, Pugneys CP

Goldcrest, Pugneys CP

I guess this must be a 3rd winter Yellow-legged Gull - unless anyone can put me straight? Quite striking in the field/lake/whatever.

I must say being unable to leave Dorset felt like a new and particularly cruel kind of torture in the circumstances - a real twitcher's nightmare. And I'm not sure whether it's worse or better that there were no emergencies after all either. Had armed rebels seized the Corn Exchange in Dorchester and I been called in to negotiate, or at least organise pizza, then missing out on a Little Bustard might have felt worthwhile. I certainly had an incentive to bring an early end to a siege. But as it was, the emergency hotline never rang, other than with offers of lifts to see the Bustard, which of course I had to turn down.

Black-headed Gull, Pugneys CP



Coot, Calder Park

Moorhen, Calder Park

As you may have gathered from the photos, I headed north this morning anyway as soon as the end of my stint on duty would allow, and was over half way to Yorkshire when news came through that there was no sign of the Bustard. But I was sufficiently far up the M1, and sufficiently had the hump, to press on and look for the long-staying Blyth's Pipit near Wakefield anyway to salvage something from the day, and also to keep myself within striking distance in case the Bustard should be relocated later.

Redwing - not many of these around home at the moment

Treecreeper, Pugneys CP

Jay, Pugneys CP

The Pipit, so elusive early in its stay that many went away with only flight views, certainly rescued the day from disaster. I parked the car, walked 100 yards and papped it less than 10 seconds after picking my spot at the end of a line of admirers. Many of these had also been heading for the Bustard which made me feel a bit better - a problem shared etc.

Drake Goldeneye, Pugneys CP

Female Goldeneye, Pugneys CP

Male Kestrel, Pugneys CP

The Pipit then flew to a patch of waste ground next to a KFC to where the twitch relocated. A young attendant came out of the restaurant, I presumed to shoo away the smelly birders who were parking but not purchasing, but no: he offered anyone carrying a tripod a 10% discount! I would have taken him up on the offer had I not thrown mine in a skip with the telescope at Leicester Forest East services.


Female Bullfinch, Pugneys CP

And a pair

Bullfinch

After a bit of aimless watching the long grass, I figured I could spend the rest of the day there and not do any better than my initial views, so decided to check out nearby Pugneys Country Park, where I saw my first Bufflehead many years ago, returning from a Scottish trip with Matt Jones. Local gen suggested that this site might produce a Willow Tit - I managed to hear one in a fast moving tit flock but could not clap eyes on it.

The habitats of Pugneys: plastic...

...footballs...

...plastic AND footballs

After a couple of hours just birding the angst of twitching had substantially receded, and I was ready for the long journey home, but still sufficiently distressed to need the soothing influence of Classic FM all the way. Sibelius and Schubert I didn't much care for, but Liszt hit the spot as I approached Wareham with the perfect composition to sum up my day: 'Consolation No 3' (this was my 3rd Blyth's Pipit after all). I took it as a sign, and spent the rest of the evening with him and his mate Brahms.

An unfamiliar call like a manic Fieldfare was eventually explained by this character, sat in a hedgerow at Pugneys.

Sick as a Parrot? I know how you feel. Apparently it's a Port Lincoln Parrot, native to Australia. A celebrity in local news - and top marks to the Wakefield Express for eschewing 'Twitcher's flocked...' bylines in favour of 'Pugney's Parrot has beautiful plumage'. FACT.

Kestrel. Pic of the day.