This is a poor picture of a Robin in deep shade in the bushes near Peter Pan, but it's significant because there was another Robin nearby and they were tolerating each other. It looks as if they're beginning to come out of their winter isolation and pair up.
The usual male Chaffinch ...
... and a Blue Tit chased me from the Flower Walk to the Round Pond demanding pine nuts all the way.
Despite the mild sunny weather, the Little Owl didn't feel like coming out. She was probably put off by the Sunday crowds. Also, several Jackdaws had perched in her tree.
Starlings looked for wireworms in the grass beside the pond. They're completely unafraid of people, and mill around under your feet. Their rocketlike takeoff keeps them safe from harm.
There was a slightly closer view of a Redwing hunting on the bare earth at the Parade Ground, but they really aren't helping the photographer.
It's hard to say how many there are at the moment, as they keep flying up into the trees and disappearing, but I think no more than half a dozen.
The female Peregrine was by herself on the barracks tower.
A Grey Heron flew into the big Chinese privet tree at the northwest corner of the bridge. They've been here before in past years, and a pair even started building a nest and mating, but it didn't come to anything in the end. If they were to go through with it, I think it would be the first time herons nested in Kensington Gardens.
Some baskets were put up in the trees nearby to encourage them, but the herons ignored these. They were quite right, as the baskets weren't properly fixed and one of them fell down. The same happened with the baskets on the island.
Three herons on the island: one of the pair attending the chicks in the nest, the other below on a post, and the widowed heron in its old nest, still without a new mate.
A pair of Great Crested Grebes, now in their full breeding finery, displayed at the Vista.
A Cormorant fishing under the marble fountain at the edge of the Italian Garden was also in breeding plumage with white bristly feathers on its head.
A Mooorhen poked in the algae at the base of the fountain.
In the Rose Garden, the sunshine brought out a Buff-Tailed Bumblebee on the Mexican Orange bush which is beginning to flower ...
... and a White-Tailed Bumblebee (judging by its yellow stripes) on a mahonia bush.
A Star Wars stormtrooper was rollerskating on the Serpentine Road.
Vinny had a rare sight at Southend: a White-Billed Diver (also called a Yellow-Billed Loon). Here it is to the left of a Great Northern Diver (which in North America is called a Common Loon). As you can see, it's bigger: it's the largest species of diver (or loon).
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Untroubled by the naming confusion, it caught a flatfish.
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Hi Ralph,
ReplyDeleteif I can ask, why do The Royal Parks encourage the nesting of herons? They closed off the island for nesting and never created extra space for birds to nest. Is it because the herons are quite rare overall?
Jenna
A good question. It would be wrong to expect logical and consistent behaviour from the park management, but I think the answer is that the wildlife officer was having a fit of enthusiasm and had the baskets put up. The ones on the Long Water were installed a couple of years before the ones on the Serpentine island and had not been touched by herons, which makes things look even less logical. The recent appointment of Nick Burnham has seen a new wave of tit boxes, bat boxes and insect boxes. I would not want to diss Nick but it seems a typical bout of initial keenness. The centre of the island was closed off because a pond with reeds had been dug and planted in the middle and they didn't want the swans trashing it. If you can see a consistent pattern in this you're doing better than me.
DeleteSpeaking about Loons: what came first, Loons, or to call someone a bit daft in the head a loon?
ReplyDelete'Loon' meaning a lout first appears in English in the 15th century, from Middle English lowen, maybe in turn from luinn, 'worn'. The name 'loon' for a bird is not actually cognate but comes from the Shetland name for the bird loom from Old Norse lōmr.
DeleteAnd, of course, 'loony' from 'lunatic' has produced a back-formation of 'loon' for mad person. The strange and alarming call of the bird is also a factor in this convergence.
DeleteI was wondering. An old fashioned idiom in Spanish is to call someone who talks a lot and makes little sense a "tarabilla", which is also the name of the stonechat. I have read that the bird name and the slur (not quite a slur, as it is quite mild) are unrelated. Who knows.
ReplyDeleteThis page
Deletehttps://forum.wordreference.com/threads/habla-m%C3%A1s-que-una-tarabilla.2403481/
is quite interesting about the meanings of tarabilla. The bird itself belongs to the 'chats', small thrushes that do indeed chatter -- the Robin is also in the group.
That makes a lot of sense: both the bird name and the slur come from a piece of mill machinery that makes a very distinctive sound.
DeleteI've looked up tarabilla and cítola in the big RAE dictionary and now know roughly what this piece of machinery is. The English word seems to be 'mill beater'. Can't find a picture that shows it, though.
DeleteWhat a fantastic picture of the beautiful Great Crested Grebes!
ReplyDeleteThey do photograph rather well.
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