Wednesday, 28 August 2013

Another 48 hours

Yesterday at Arcot, 'early doors' my second Little Egret of the year.  It did not stay for long; it was gone by 8:30am when MaccyD dropped in.

Today, no Egret at Arcot, but Garganey (still), female Pintail, two female Shoveler, hods of Teal, Moorhen and Coots too, as well as Mallard, Little Grebe and the ever-maturing Mute Swan juvenile duo.  Two Water Rail seen, and lots of vocalisation between Rails in the east and west reedmace beds.

Wessie was quiet, with little to see or hear.  This fella was there this morning and this afternoon:

Monday, 26 August 2013

Another Lesson Learned

Arrived at Wessie this morning to see a dog walker near the Flash, and The Guv's limousine parked up.  Not having had any news from him combined with the likelihood of a rampant canine did not bode well for some action.  Taking the easy way out, I texted His Royalness and enquired.  Confirmation that the Flash was a bare as a bare thing, and rather than waste energy and time, a u-turn and off to Arcot.

Imagine my surprise when I soon got a call to say he had an immature Marsh Harrier!  Lesson?  Get out of the car as birding tedium can change to the canine's privates in seconds.  It is now added to these others.

Another u-y and back at the bollards and news it was off east.  Time to put the ostrich legs into top gear and at the sub-station, voila; high, distant and being given grief by two Buzzards, it was last seen fast and low and off west.

In the words of the great (for now) Rolf Harris, can you guess what it is yet?

Sunday, 25 August 2013

Early Morning Stint

If you have felt safer sleeping in your beds overnight Friday and yesterday, that's because I am work keeping the streets free from fear.  And tonight too, btw.

And so to bed at 4:30am today, and four hours later, a call from Lord McDougall that I missed by a second. Must be something good, thinks I and a few texts to the other Team Crammy members revealed nothing.  Mr MaccyD's phone was engaged.  Why?  Because he was leaving me a voicemail of a Little Stint at Wessie.

Dogs bollocks!  And the Sanderling remains too.