Flirting with Kites, then up with the sun.

Had a classic 'one that got away' moment yesterday. Driving home from work around 4.30pm, crossed over the Attleborough Breckland Lodge roundabout and proceeded to lean all over my passenger looking at birds, something he and she are quite used to by now. Thinking I had a Common Buzzard, I slowed the car slightly but not significantly. By now the bird in question was flying away from me, but I could make out a whacking great tail and forward-tilted wings. This was a Kite, probably a Red Kite and at that distance and angle I couldn't make out the forked tail. Nice, a good bird for the journey list, although frustratingly not ID'd for certain. Back to Alice in Chains and the ride home.
On arrival home and the weekend beckoning, I checked RBA online. Eyes widen. 'Possible Black Kite over A11 at 5pm'. POSSIBLE?! DEFINATE MORE LIKE! So yes reader, I probably missed a Black Kite. Possibly. Maybe. There was no way I could have stopped the car, or nailed the features at that distance. Stil rather galling I can tell you!
Quick to get this out of my system, I was up with the Lark and headed to Surlingham just after 5 this morning. As always, a treat to be out that time of the day. Proof?

Can't say I saw anything notable; added Whitethroat to the year list and observed nest building, saw 2 Cuckoo, the Lapwing are back, a lovely male Sparrowhawk shot over the marsh and an excellent Fox was at Wood's End. Still, all lovely to see. A look round Claxton Marshes gave me my first Hobby of the year. I realised he was dressed like Jack White from the White Stripes days.
I have added this picture that Debs took. I like it, because it looks like an aberrant Puma is hunting Cattle in Norfolk. Is that a Pacific Swift overhead? No. No its not.

Comments

Everything is about edge

Hardley, where it is often confusing to define where the garden ends and the marsh begins. Tumble-down houses and rickety shacks, away from any bus route and Team Sky sorts wrapped in lycra, this is a village that by choice is cut off. The secret is out, and pre-storm Ciara as many as 10 large lenses littered the river bank firing at will. Their target- Winter ghosts. First, the classic Scooby-Doo type, as a Barn Owl responds to an ill-advised squeak in the grass and heads towards the onlookers. Another quickly joins the hunt, their formation a picture of double-edged stealth. But these year-round residents are not the key objective today, that honour is given to the Short-eared Owl. 3/4 of these can be seen from the staithe at the minute, floating like giant moths over the tussocks and edges. In a recent article in The New Yorker, Jake Fiennes states "Everything is about edge". Hedges, ditches, scrub, forgotten tracts of land that link nothing and no-one. Fiennes, now ...

Grey Phalarope- a new patch bird

The 7th of April was another bitterly cold Spring day, hats and gloves in prime position on pegs and in bags ready to be deployed. A few brave Garganey have been reported north of the river, but it was a bird from the north itself that had me rushing for the thermals and the telescope late in the day. I was thankful for the local Whatsapp group who were quick to report that a Grey Phalarope had been seen on Rockland Broad. This tiny Wader would have come in on the northerlies over the last few days, although to grace one of the broads is a real surprise, since most stick pretty close to the coast before moving on. Indeed, my experience of the birds has usually been on a sea watch in the Autumn, waves crashing and foam flying, my eyes straining to pick them out as they fly low just above the surf. They are fantastic birds, and now one was here on the patch. I had a brief panic when I realised my scope was in my car at the garage (thankfully I do have a much older spare) but once th...

Claxton-on-sea!

Although it was not quite the Christmas we wanted here in the valley, the rain has bought its own gift. A grim vision of the future, perhaps. But right now, the patch is peaking and is alive with birds, and for that I am thankful. On Christmas eve, it was a job to navigate away from the village due to standing water that had left abandoned cars and undelivered presents in its wake. The rain had been persistent and unforgiving, the ground, saturated. Over on the marsh, where there had once been a muddy puddle amongst the pasture, a city had sprung from the leak, with a plethora of new occupants noisily laying claim to a patch of sodden marsh. Wigeon and Black-headed Gulls in their thousands now wheeled and whistled over and amongst the newly formed pools, accompanied by smaller numbers of Teal and Shoveler. A flock of two hundred-strong Lapwing enjoyed feeding on the less damp spots where green grass was still exposed, and thrown in for good measure have been a couple of Ruff, the ...

Notes from the valley

Search This Blog