Canada Geese – derrickjknight

A Gander At Geese

This was the first time I had left the house since my catheter removal yesterday morning. I therefore stayed in the car throughout, yet rather longer than I would have wished.

After Jackie bought some tulip and daffodil bulbs at Otter Nurseries this afternoon we were thwarted in our intended forest drive by two factors. First our egress from Newbridge drive onto Christchurch Road was stalled by

a very recent crash site causing

a long tailback which had not been cleared when we returned home.

Our chosen route to the east was then closed for road repairs and we were forced down

Snooks Lane. Take a good look at this, because we were not the only ones at what is near enough our rush hour, trying to avoid the continuing blockage along the road on which we live. Snooks Lane wasn’t one of them, but there were other similar winding routes congested by others. Fortunately Jackie got us home.

A gathering of geese now monopolised Little Hatchet Pond as they floated among the water lilies, so we took a gander at them. Passing

walkers and a wagtail, we then made our sluggish way home.

This evening we dined at Rokali’s where I enjoyed Methi Goust and a chapati while Jackie’s choice was chicken biriani; I drank Kingfisher and Jackie drank Diet Coke. As always, the service was friendly and efficient, despite a gathering of customers from the Bournemouth air show.

Peering Animals

I opened a few collected presents for my 82nd birthday this morning, one of which was a bottle of Calvet Cahors Malbec 2021 from Helen and Bill which I opened to accompany the Royal Indian takeaway meal which Jackie collected for our dinner this evening.

This afternoon Shelley and Ron visited bearing more welcome gifts, after which Jackie and I took a forest drive.

The Portmore goats peered at us through their wooden fence;

I photographed the landscape through metal railings at East Boldre

where storm clouds gathered over the fields.

Canada geese and goslings with a few mallards occupied Hatchet Pond.

Back at East Boldre posts and wire along the verges fenced off the woodland beside

field horses peering through their protective fly masks.

The gates to their pasturage threw shadows across the roadside.

Flora And Fauna

On another very warm afternoon we visited Otter Nurseries in search of a garden bench. The queue inside was most uninviting, so we took a forest drive and revisited the outlet on our way home when the queues had subsided and Jackie ordered what she wanted.

Otter’s car park was lined with the moon daisies that are very prolific at the moment.

Gilpins’s cornus in full bloom towers, as usual, above the garden wall.

Perched on a stand at Portmore a spectator supervises a caprine push-me-pull-you.

Through traffic at Pilley needed to drive round ponies on the road

while avoiding calves on the verges.

Hatchet Pond accommodated water lilies, a moorhen,

Canada geese and their goslings,

and swans with their cygnets,

while a black-headed gull kept an eye on Caring for the Forest.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s wholesome beef and mushroom pie; boiled Jersey Royal potatoes; swede and new potato mash; firm carrots, cauliflower, and Brussels sprouts, with which I drank more of the Malbec.

We Had Been Conned

Anticipating more showers after a short spell of sunshine this much clearer morning we took an early trip down a very wet Lower Pennington Lane and back.

Vehicles en route along Christchurch Road continued to splash sprays of standing pools over themselves and others.

The occasional dog walker waded among the overflow from the

rippling reflective rivulets running down the gutters joining runnels across the pock-marked tarmac.

Overhead branches relinquished onto ruffled runlets ripped leaves that sank beneath or imprinted themselves on the mirror of accumulated rainwater.

Vehicular lights, front and back, gleamed on the fluid surface.

Skeletal trees were silhouetted against the constantly changing skies.

Further down the lane waterlogged open fields were a more natural element for honking Canada geese, cawing crows, more silent waterfowl, and squelching cattle.

I was forced to wait in the car before photographing these fauna because the only shower – a heavy one blurring the windows – that we experienced during the rest of a sun-filled day hit me head on as I ventured out. Clearly we had been conned by the meteorologists.

This evening we all dined on Jackie’s herby penne Bolognese with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Italian red wine.

Reflections Of Pilley

Knowing that this morning’s dry weather was due to turn wet – which it did – Jackie and I took a forest drive that needed to extend no further than Pilley where rich photographic pickings were to be found.

As we clanked and clattered across the cattle grid into the village we found a veritable herd of shaggy haired donkeys foraging, sleeping, and scratching around the green at Pilley Street and May Lane

Some sprawled somnolently, their hooves tucked beneath them;

a small group surrounded a car attempting to drive down the lane;

others tore and crunched at prickly bushes;

one adventurous animal investigated a parked truck.

Some of those not using low scratching posts engaged in mutual grooming. The last of this group of pictures was obtained through the passenger window glass. I would the window down, saying I wonder whether I could get a clearer shot through the opening. “You won’t” said Jackie. An instant later the eye of a donkey appeared in my viewfinder. The hopeful animal had obscured my sight as it attempted to enter the Modus.

We wondered whether to take home to Dillon a baseball cap left on a post.

Further on, we witnessed much reflective activity on Pilley’s lake,

including that of Canada geese,

a pair of mallards,

and the ripples beneath an inactive set of branches.

Opposite the bus stop a grey pony enjoyed a lunch of cold soup. The last six of these pictures are Jackie’s.

Later, I continued the tedious task of facilitating enlargement of the pictures in the following posts from the Classic Editor period:

Elizabeth Chose Her Moment

A Leaving Present

Progress Report

This evening we all dined on tender roast beef, crisp roast potatoes, parsnips, and Yorkshire pudding, with firm carrots and Brussels sprouts, and meaty gravy. Ellie enjoyed her squashed vegetables with gravy and horseradish sauce. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Shiraz.

Stinging Choice

We began a dull, humid, day with a shopping trip to Lidl, followed by a forest drive.

By the time the choppy waves of the open sea splashing over the quayside reached the sheltered harbour at Mudeford they were but ripples upon the dirty grey sandy shore.

Silhouetted pines with gnarly roots separate the two expanses of water.

Canoes are stacked and boats moored on the more sheltered side.

A few visitors with young children lingered on the green, now the older offspring have returned to school.

A patient dog sat waiting quietly for its walk.

A yarn decoration with a seaside theme adorns the oldest red pillar box in the Bournemouth area, which dates from 1856, the first on our mainland, following a trial in Jersey, had been introduced in Carlisle in 1853. The penny post had only begun in 1840.

‘Anthony Trollope, now more famed as a novelist, was, in the 1850s working as a Surveyor’s Clerk for the Post Office. Part of his duties involved him travelling to Europe where it is probable that he saw road-side letter boxes in use in France and Belgium.

He proposed the introduction of such boxes to Britain and a trial on the Channel Islands was approved. Four cast-iron pillar boxes were installed on the island of Jersey and came into use on 23 November 1852. In 1853 the trial was extended to neighbouring Guernsey. None of the first boxes used on Jersey survive. It is possible that one still in use on Guernsey together with another in our collection, originally sited in Guernsey, date from the 1853 extension to the trial.’ (postal museum.org)

At Avon Canada geese flocked on the river and on the fields, beside which I enjoyed an engaging conversation with a friendly young woman called Ali, who was conducting her own handwritten survey and confirmed my identification of the birds.

In London Lane a field is occupied by a pair of goats I have photographed before. One today was doing its utmost to reach stinging nettles outside the electrified fence. In the process it had chewed to the bare wire, which will be clear from the first picture when enlarged by accessing the gallery with a click. I suppose one sting is like any other to a goat.

Just outside Burley, a group of ponies were enjoying the slightly cooler weather with its lack of flies. One had gathered gorse and bracken headgear.

This evening we dined on pork steaks and chipolata sausages on a bed of leaks; boiled new potatoes; crunchy carrots and cauliflower; tender runner beans and spinach, with which Jackie drank more of the Pinot Grigio and I drank more of the Dao.

Foxglove And Twinkle

Early this bright, sunny, and cool day we drove out to Pilley to deliver a letter to Elizabeth. I popped it into her letter box and we continued on our way.

I have a couple of times before featured the horse and pony occupying the garden of Jordan’s Cottage on the corner of Bull and Jordan’s Lanes. Today I was to be formally introduced. As I photographed the two equines feeding from their trough a Gentleman planting flowers invited me in. This was Roderick, whose granddaughter owns these creatures. The horse is Foxglove and the pony, Twinkle.

Given her freckles, Foxglove is so aptly named. She is an eventer who is convalescing while recovering from and injured back leg. Roderick confirmed that the mask is for protection from flies. Seeing me back away as the horses trotted over to me when I entered the small paddock, he assured me that they were very friendly. I laughed and explained that I was not afraid but had to keep my distance to use the lens on my camera. In fact I left the paddock to take the shots of Foxglove in her mask. It would, of course, have been rude not to have photographed Twinkle’s eye.

On Norleywood Road we passed trick cyclist who probably wasn’t a psychiatrist. This was to have been on our way home until Jackie took a diversion down

Lower Pennington Lane to investigate the nature reserve at the far end.

Hurst View camping site was packed out and I could hear voices planning their day’s trips all the way down the lane along which I walked while Jackie waited in the car, parked on a verge just before a considerable narrowing of the thoroughfare.

Even cyclists had little passing room.

The marshland to my left was quite dry and occupied by a few basking ponies. The Isle os Wight could be seen in the distance.

When I reached the entrance to the bird sanctuary it seemed that the caravan site was decanting its entire contents who were making their way along the dedicated path which I consequently decided to eschew and set off across undulating terrain which I largely had to myself. I took the last section of the path on my return and I have to say that the boys in the third picture above thanked me for stepping aside.

In the circumstances it is hardly surprising that the only birds I saw were flocks of Canada geese,

occasionally joined by others flying in.

Against the backdrop of the Isle of Wight, The Needles, Hurst castle and their lighthouses, across the marshland could be seen walkers, cyclists and a dog. Particularly the last of this gallery would benefit from bigification.

A few goats occupied a field opposite the campsite.

After lunch I put in another stint at pruning Félicité Perpétue in the front garden.

Later this afternoon Elizabeth came for a cup of tea and stayed for dinner consisting of another of Jackie’s succulent cottage pies; crunchy carrots and cauliflower; tender cabbage; and meaty gravy, with which the Culinary Queen drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Carles.

Strange Courtship

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. THOSE IN GROPUS ACCESS GALLERIES THAT CAN BE VIEWED FULL SIZE.

This morning we drove out to Eyeworth Pond and back.

Yesterday evening I described the heavy rain that pummelled the pavement. It continued throughout the night. This is what it did to

Brockenhurst’s landscaped lawns,

and to its ford.

Some vehicles travelled through the water with caution;

others ripped through them; still more turned around and chose another route.

Cyclists used the bridge. I did point out to a couple of these that last year, not only had a pair of them whizzed through the flood, but they had responded to my request to do it again. These two did not accept my challenge. Perhaps I wasn’t direct enough.

On Eyeworth Pond a pair of Canada geese floated around, and occasionally went fishing.

The Mallards were in full courting mode. Sometimes the ladies were encircled by the males, sometimes chased around. At times I wasn’t sure the females were not making the paddling.

One couple did appear to be engaged in a strange courtship involving rear displays and synchronised diving.

Spray formed on a clear pool now covering terrain that normally provided forage for ponies.

A somewhat quizzical blackbird investigated the seeds left on the gatepost to the woodland walk.

A blue tit eyed me from a holly bush,

as did a solitary robin.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s splendid sausage casserole served with slightly orange tinged creamy mashed potato and swede, bright orange carrots, off white cauliflower, pale green sautéed leeks, and deep red cabbage. Jackie drank sparkling water and I drank San Andres Chilean merlot.

Letting The Toddler Win The Race

CLICK ON IMAGES TO ENLARGE. REPEAT IF REQUIRED

This morning we went for a driveabout in the forest.

It is not unusual to notice cartoon character flattened squirrels on the winding lanes. On the very narrow track bounded by thick impenetrable hedgerows that links Newtown with Minstead, a young tree rat caught ahead of the car tried to outrun us. Jackie in turn, attempted to drive slowly enough to allow it to do so. This was a bit like allowing a toddler to win a race. Not until we reached the wider road leading down to the ford named The Splash, did the creature spot a giant oak for which it made a beeline.

The sky was a clear blue, and strong sun filtered through the trees, dappling everything in its path.

This was especially apparent on Roger Penny Way,

and off the paths on either side of it.

This area was well supplied with ferns,

and the occasional buttercup.

The lane that leads towards The Royal Oak at Fritham drops down steeply, bends frighteningly, then soars up past the pub and on to Eyeworth Pond.

Behind Myrtle Cottage, which stands in the cleft,

sheep graze on sloping hillsides.

A cyclist took on the challenge of climbing the hill.

When he reached the top, another was preparing to coast down in no time at all.

The residents of these lanes clearly suffer from overflow parking from The Royal Oak, and have resorted to sensible signage.

The Water Lilies on Eyeworth Pond are in full bloom.

Canada geese dominate the water;

and mallards,

when not in full sunlight, are as dappled

as the shrubberies.

I had an interesting conversation with another photographer who told me that it was common practice for people to place titbits on the gatepost to attract birds. Apparently there are no takers for peanut butter.

A moorhen (I am grateful to Simon of Quercus Community for this identification) even left the water to investigate today’s offerings.

Other visitors were blue tits,

and chaffinches, which were happy to take their pickings from below. They must have been deterred by whoever shed that feather.

The Hordle Scarecrow Competition is now on.

Seven entrants are propped against the hedge outside Hordle Parish Church.

This evening we dined on haddock and cheese fishcakes, sautéed potatoes, carrots, green beans, courgette bake, and baked beans in tomato sauce. I drank Patrick Chodot Fleurie 2014, while Jackie abstained.

Clapham Common

It was a bright and sunny day for my visit to old friends Wolf and Luci. Jackie, as usual drove me to and from New Milton Station for the train to Waterloo. From the terminal, I took the Northern Line to Clapham Common, along the South Side of which I walked, crossing over to Elms Road, right into Abbeville Road, and left into Hambalt Road to their home. I returned home by the same methods.
Maple leaves were falling on the common where work forces were engaged in clearing them up, mostly with extended ‘big hands’ to aid the process. Blue pigment on a particularly gnarled trunk produced an interesting abstract painting.
Pigeons, rooks, and Canada geese scratched about in well clawed soil, and Bullfrogs overlooked the redundant cattle trough, now planted with flowers.
Also apparently redundant, certainly unusable, is the drinking fountain provided by The United Kingdom Temperance and General Provident Association. This grand sculptured structure, even if it were functioning as it did in Victorian times, would probably be eschewed by the various gentlemen occupying the benches as they glugged alcoholic beverages straight from their cans. The lions embellishing each side would probably never again have their thirsts slaked by the blocked and rusting fountain.
When I lived or worked in London I had enjoyed a monthly lunch with my friends. Unfortunately this frequency is no longer possible but whenever Jackie and I see them it is equally pleasurable, as it was today. Today Luci produced a tender lamb casserole, wild rice, parsnips, and brussels sprouts, followed by her trademark flavoursome crustless pumpkin pie. She and I both drank Wolf Blass red wine, while Wolf drank his customary apple juice.
Luci wrapped up a helping of the dessert for Jackie, who enjoyed it as much as I did. After that superb lunch, I didn’t join my lady for dinner.
On my return home I was greeted by an e-mail from Luci containing very good photographs of Wolf and me taken with her Samsung mobile phone.