buzzard – derrickjknight

Gaggles And More

On a somewhat brighter afternoon we drove to the west of the forest where there are more farms than moors.

Daffodils were emerging from the grass on Neaton green.

I photographed this sky and trees from Hawthorn Road, beyond which

the field flocked with Canada and Egyptian geese, infiltrated by a large cygnet from the

neighbouring grassland on which Jackie focussed before she pictured

the tree line and clouds behind the Canada and Egyptian geese.

Further towards Bransgore we parked beneath a Buzzard; the first four images in this gallery being mine, and the last three, Jackie’s.

Finally I photographed a rookery,

and Jackie produced an image of me in action on my perch.

This evening we dined on hot and spicy lemon chicken baked with varicoloured peppers, on a bed of the Culinary Queen’s wonderful savoury rice, with a side of tender green beans with which she drank Diet Coke and I finished the Merlot.

An Avian Post

It was the raising of this manhole cover by human waste that had recently caused us to contact Greg of Mouland Drainage who provided his usual exemplary service at a Senior Citizen’s discount.

Knowing that there would be two other points requiring clearance we made them accessible to Greg as best we could. This meant the artefacts on top of the covers had to be returned in place afterwards.

Just after lunch I righted the owl and planters covering the first of

these, while the other with two filled aluminium tubs is, for fear of toppling over, beyond me now.

This year is the first that the Japanese maple above the patio bed has enjoyed colourful autumn foliage.

On this perpetually overcast, yet warm open-waistcoat weather we took a forest drive.

I negotiated the pools on Tanners Lane to photograph the beach with

its water-beaten breakwaters and

distant views over which I could discern distant honking geese in flight, without realising that they would emerge over Tanners Lane

where Jackie would be able to photograph them from much closer;

another flock crying out to those overhead;

starlings switching from wires to tree in rotation;

a buzzard keeping eyes peeled for potential prey;

and me, before I later added

a pheasant face-off on St. Leonard’s Road.

Having begun with an owl on the patio we completed today’s theme with Jackie’s nourishing chicken stewp welcoming the addition of one of yesterday’s chopped duck breasts and crusty rolls with which I drank more of the pinotage.

Walking Better

This morning I reduced the codeine element of my pain relief and toured the garden with my camera.

I was walking better as I wandered around making these images.

Much of the rest of the morning was occupied with mutually supportive family telephone conversations.

This afternoon we took a drive into the forest.

A chestnut pony cropping the verge at North Gorley had clearly been indulging in a mud bath.

Not far away, we passed a distant field of young stags,

on one side of which perched a watching raptor. I am relying on John Knifton to identify this bird. (See Quercus’s comment below – a buzzard)

I can identify the pair of mallards rooting on the soggy terrain beside grazing ponies.

This evening we dined on Mr Pink’s cod, chips, and pea fritter with Garner’s pickled onions.

‘I’m Not An Olympic Cyclist’

Before lunch, which consisted of a vast amount of yesterday’s food with the addition of more cold meats, pies, and cheeses, Jackie drove Don and me to Bank where we sampled the beers and sussed out the food, which looked very tempting, in The Oak Inn. The beamed pub was very full and catered for numerous families. Don and I drank Gale’s Seafarers Ale and Jackie had Staropramen. This naturally led to a rather soporific afternoon until Don returned to Bungay early in the evening.

I had to rather force myself to walk the Shave Wood loop after this, but it was a beautifully clear evening, which was encouraging.

Jackie was talking recently about escapees from Victorian gardens, which is her term for the ubiquitous purple variety of rhododendron. In the past week I have learned that there are far more varieties of this Chinese import in the gardens of The New Forest than I had previously imagined to exist (see those featured in posts of 2nd, 3rd, and 4th of this month). Those loose in the forest all seem to be standard sized and shaped purple. Apparently they have periodically to be culled because they take over and ruin the ecology. Some years ago notices were put up whilst the work was going on, in order to explain to dismayed visitors why this was necessary. Stapleford Woods near Newark had an even greater problem with this invader. It is fascinating how one’s attitude towards nature varies according to one’s perspective. Town dwellers encourage the foxes that countryfolk regard as a menace. Everyone knows that squirrels, deer, and rabbits are sweet little creatures. Until they begin to steal your bird food or devastate your flowers and vegetables. Jackie battles against the first of these and does her best to keep the others away. Suddenly they are not so endearing after all.

Cycling families were out in force this evening. As I walked up the road from Football Green to Shave Wood a couple of young teenagers pedalled past me from behind, chatting away. A short while afterwards, I turned at the squeak of a brake and the slap of a foot upon the tarmac. A middle-aged man, silhouetted against the background of sunlit trees, white hair glowing, looked behind him, as if waiting for someone. I continued on my way. He then called ‘put some effort into it’. I continued without turning round. Soon he came past me, followed in his wake by a little older teenager who, as she struggled to catch up, said ‘I’m so glad I’m not an Olympic cyclist’. It seemed to me that she may have benefitted from a bike that was big enough for her. Further on, the other two stopped and waited for the man and girl to catch up. The last I saw was tail end Charlie wobbling into the sunshine.

Don had, this morning, identified for me the cry of a buzzard which circled over our garden. He had been familiar with this from his Gaeddren years in North Wales. In the forest I looked up as I heard the same sound and watched one of these raptors swoop across the clear sky, settle for a while at the top a tall oak tree, and take off in the opposite direction. I heard others I did not see.