What birds (are you/have you been) watching? What birds have been watching you?
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Sparrows have started clinging to and enthusiastically pecking the outside brickwork of my neighbours' extension, since I had an ivy removed early this year: entertaining to watch; sometimes 3 or 4 at same time. I presume they can see very small insects as well as eating grit, as they do not restrict themselves to the mortar. The neighbours didn't like the ivy, and are not too keen on birds either: quite funny, really!
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Not so much a bird as a word: the word "hover-glean", which I encountered for the first time in the Guardian's Country Diary section today: "A pair of tiny goldcrests hover-glean, plucking spiders from the underside of leaves and branches with their needle-like bills." It apparently means - as some here will already know - "to forage while fluttering in the air". Anyway, I thought it was a lovely word for a spectacular activity.
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Originally posted by aeolium View PostNot so much a bird as a word: the word "hover-glean"... I thought it was a lovely word for a spectacular activity.
Santa came today. For months my goldfinches have deserted me. I greatly missed their colourful flutter around the feeders; not that I don't appreciate my faithful chaffinches and blue tits - I love them - who battle the grey squirrel who has taken up residence after an occasional visit over the last year or so. I looked out early this morning - too excited for Santa obviously, or I would have still been in bed for another couple of hours - and there to my surprise was a single goldfinch. Now, I have had to go visiting here and there - you know what it's like on Christmas Morning - and I am confident that one goldfinch does make a Winter. So, I am now watching patiently for the deluge to come.
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One of our jays was on the lawn this morning, prodding the ground in search of edibles while at the same time keeping an eye out for danger - jays seem much more nervous than the more common magpies, and, given their similar habits and the fact that both belong to the crow family, I wonder if this has something to do with safety in mumbers.
But I was astonished to find a bumble bee rather drunkenly trying to make its way across the garden path, A bumble bee on Christmas Day!!! I'm supposing its sluggishness was down to difficulty with keeping its body warmth in outside temperatures of around 12 degs Celsius.
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I'm one of those people who can spot large things, like mountains, lakes and the Shard, but I'm hopeless with birds.
"Look at that blue-tit in the tree over there", someone will say. I look, and see nothing, unless it's as large and distinctive as an ostrich. So last Monday, I was walking through Peasholm Park in Scarborough, and my friend said, "Look at the heron on the hedge over there". Over where? Oh, you mean on the other side of the lake. "Yes, I see it." Lies of course. I can't see anything apart from the ducks just in front of me. Eventually, I spot something that could be a bird on what it probably a hedge, and take out my camera and try to photograph this semi-imaginary creature that might be a heron, using a 200mm lens. The resulting picture does contain something that might be a heron, but it still looks rather small, but zooming in on the screen confirms that it's the real thing. Returning home, I look at it on the computer, crop it and enlarge it and it looks like something taken on a cheap 110 camera. Enter Photoshop, and attempt to sharpen the picture, and we get an acceptable, if highly pixalised image. But without spending a fortune on a really powerful (and heavy) super-telephoto lens, this is the best to hope for at present:
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Richard Tarleton
Originally posted by Eine Alpensinfonie View PostI suppose I asked for that.
But seriously, can you see the heron on this picture, taken with a "normal" lens from where we were standing?
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Maybe it's the (probably false) hint of spring here in the Alpes Maritimes (the mimosa is in bloom, even here at 2,500 feet above sea level) but it was a joy to hear one of the resident blackcaps singing its heart out in the sunshine - and then to watch the goldcrests find something interesting in the self-same mimosa, as well as blackbirds gorging themselves on the now-ripe olives, which I'm much too lazy to pick. A total contrast to the incessant rain in Perthshire.
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