Dim and soggy

A dismal dark wet day made no difference to a pair of Gadwalls upending for algae at the edge of the lake.

The Gadwall-Mallard trio hurried past as if they had somewhere to go. This odd arrangement started a couple of years ago through a chance meeting in a fountain pool in the Italian Garden, and the three are now inseparable. The female Mallard considers the Gadwall to be her mate, as his gentle manner is much more acceptable than the constant lust of a Mallard drake. So the Mallard drake here is very much a spare.

There were only a few people in the park, but there's always an irresponsible dog owner somewhere.

Usually you can tell the sex of a Mute Swan by the size of the knob on its bill, large for males, small for females. But sometimes it's medium-sized, and I'm unsure whether the parent who accompanies the lone teenager on the Serpentine is its father or its mother, though the latter seems more likely from its devoted shepherding.

The Egyptian teenager passed, swimming strongly with both feet and looking healthy. I haven't had a chance to see it walking for several days, but the last time it had only a very slight limp from its leg injury.

A young Grey Heron was fishing at the edge of the pontoon at the bridge. The structure has proved an unexpected boon to both herons and Great Crested Grebes, as fish lurk under it. It doesn't seem to cramp the movement of the water birds, as the larger ones pass constantly round the end, while the grebes simply dive under it.

The dominant Black-Headed Gull looked down from the head of the Big Bird statue.

A Pied Wagtail was reflected in a puddle as it picked up one of the small yellowish larvae that they find on the edge of the lake.

When I came back along the other side of the lake there was the same bird still hard at work.

The small birds were staying in shelter and there were none at all to be seen in the Flower Walk, which is unusual. But there was a good turnout at the bridge with plenty of Great Tits, one perching in the pink leaves of the spindle bush ...

... and the Robin which defends territory on the other side of the path.

A big rose bush in the Rose Garden is the main rendezvous for small birds wanting to be fed, and the usual Robin was here ...

... and one of the Coal Tits. The Robin doesn't attack the tits here because it's off its territory, which is a hawthorn a few yards away ...

... where, in its absence, a Blue Tit perched.

The holly tree at the bridge was full of Wood Pigeons as usual. They won't stop till they have finished the abundant crop of berries.

A wet Carrion Crow waited on a sign.

A Magpie looked for worms under a tree by the urn commemorating Queen Caroline at the outflow of the Serpentine, a lake created to please her.

On my way home I missed the Robin at Mount Gate, as the area was full of Magpies and Carrion Crows and this Jay, occupying the railings where the Robin usually goes.