Monday 20 March 2023

Not much of an equinox

On the chilly day of the vernal equinox, with intermittent drizzle, it seemed unlikely that the Little Owl at the Round Pond would be out. But there he was, sheltering from the wind on the trunk of a horse chestnut tree.


A male Starling sang and flapped his wings on a dead tree near the Speke obelisk where the pair have their nest hole. You can tell the sex of a Starling by the colour at the base of its bill, especially in the breeding season: blue for boys, pink for girls.


The female Blackbird I photographed yesterday was looking for worms on the ground below.


A male Chaffinch perched on the twig of a pink-flowered hawthorn about to blossom.


The Serpentine bridge has now been inspected to check that no more bits are falling off, and you can walk through the tunnels again. A Great Tit usually greets me as I approach the tunnel, which I haven't been able to do for weeks. But there he was, dancing with impatience on the post of a notice board ...


... and the architrave of the tunnel entrance while I photographed him before giving him his pine nut.


Four Jays came out at Mount Gate to be fed.


A light drizzle was falling as the Cormorants at the island tried to dry their wings. Flapping seemed to help.


The Cormorants on the fallen poplar in the Long Water had a retinue of Pochards.


A Grey Heron looked for fish in the gaps of the reeds next to the Italian Garden.


The heron with the very red bill has been on the nest at the west end of the island for three days. It's possible they may be serious about nesting now, but don't get your hopes up as they can shilly-shally for months.


The Great Crested Grebes have returned to the nest under the willow opposite Peter Pan which they started and then abandoned. Again, this is likely to be an on-off affair, but the longer they delay the more small fish there will be for chicks.


A line of Mute Swans passed the row of moored pedalos at the island.


The headwind was strong enough to tempt some of them to do a bit of flying.


Egyptian Geese loudly claimed a tree in the leaf yard. The female quacked and the male hissed. This old sweet chestnut tree has large holes in it, and they may have found one suitable for nesting in.

7 comments:

  1. The swans and the pedalos is a classic. Well-grabbed. I imagine a pretty quick reaction was called for. Joe

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    1. Actually this was one of the more leisurely shots. I saw them coming and waited for the moment.

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  2. We call pedalos "patitos" in some parts of Spain ("duckies"). Close, but no cigar!
    Were you able to make it to the tunnel and back without issue? The Great Tit's excitement comes across even in a still picture.
    Tinúviel

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    1. 'Pedalo' seems to be a loanword from French, but the idea of a pedal-powered paddle boat comes from no less a person than Leonardo da Vinci, who drew one in the Codex Atlanticus. Oddly, I can't find a decent-sized image of the drawing, but there are lots of models and it's clear that the paddles were driven by cranks attached to treadles like those of a loom.

      The tunnels are now completely open and you can go through. Nothing fell on me.

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  3. Yes, wasn't it a dreary equinox? That great tit's memory is impressive

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    1. Yes, we know that crows remember people all their lives, but I was surprised by the Great Tit.

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    2. They're way smarter than we give them credit for,
      Tinúviel

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