Battling

There’s not a lot to report from this morning but I either set to with blogging and get inventive or watch X Factor, or Dross Disaster as I call it. You see I knew last night a Common Cold was on the way with the tickly throat and the shivers. As my old ma would have said were she still alive, “That’s what you get for not wearing a vest” or ”I told you not to sit on the those cold, wet stones at Pilling”. So I emptied one of those bitter, powdery things into “hot but not boiling water”, which guarantee to fight a cold but also turn you into a just living zombie, and then set off to Pilling to sit on the stones again.

Ridge Farm seemed a good bet for migrants and vis, especially since someone had seen a Lapland Bunting there yesterday, but being a lazy dude I didn’t even make enquiries as to the who, when, where and how so couldn’t follow it up much. There was plenty of cloud cover and the wind blew easterly, a bit too strong maybe for much vis but a few finches and others battled east into the wind to land then disappear into the Fluke Hall trees or the nearby hedges, with little parties of Chaffinches totalling 45 birds, 2 x 2 Siskin, 2 Reed Buntings and 5 Greenfinch.

Along the hedgerow west the resident Tree Sparrows dominated my notebook with at least 30 of them, 4 Dunnocks, not unusual, 2 Pied Wagtails on the stubble and six or seven Meadow Pipits which probably weren’t migrants. I counted 7 Skylark, a few Linnets and Goldfinch, and found the lone Wheatear again sheltered in the boulders of the sea wall.

Over towards Hi-Fly’s hatchery I watched as a gang of 30 or more corvids gave stick to a Buzzard, gamely trying to hunt over the stubble, and it wasn’t until the Buzzard found cover in the trees at Fluke Hall that the corvids let up. Who’d be a No Mates Buzzard? I watched 2 Little Egrets feeding on a marshy pond then made a stab at the numbers of Pinkies, 5 or 6000 that I could see from here but lots more towards Lane Ends and/or flying onto the stubble of Fluke Hall Lane.

Tree Sparrow
Buzzard

I later learnt that there were “2+ Lapland Buntings” down near Pilling Water this morning, one of the few mornings in recent weeks I haven’t been there. That’s what you get for throwing a sicky.

And these strong easterlies might be good for turning up the odd “good” bird but it means my mist nets stay packed away, although there’s hope on Tuesday and Wednesday by which time infallible Famous Grouse medicine should have done the trick better than witches brew. So I didn’t get to sit on the stones after all, and anyway the birds don’t always perform as people might think. Sometimes they fly off or turn round at the vital moment. It’s often a battle of wits.

It Was There A Second Ago
Be Awkward Then
That’s More Like It