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The house martins are back
I'm not much of a birder, though I seem to be a lot more aware of them overall this year. I think that' s due to a combination of factors.
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temeres journal a lot and that always gives me the desire to see if I can spot something that he hasn't (the only reason I have a chance is that we have some different habitats over here and the people on Brownsea Island are very good at pointing things out). predatrix have me a copy of 'How to be a bad birdwatcher' by Simon Barnes and I'd recommend that to anyone who enjoys watching birds on a casual basis but doesn't consider themself a birder. Last, but not least, being involved with the Wildlife Trusts for a while now has increased my awareness of all kinds of wildlife.
Anyway, to return to the house martins. I may not be much of a bird watcher, but I've always associated the return of the house martins with things being right in the world. I look forward to it every year. One day there's none at all. Two days later, there's a whole crowd of them.
I saw my first one on Wednesday evening. When I went for a walk on Friday, there they all were - swooping through the air in tight-turning glides that would have made a fighter pilot envious. When your diet is flying insects, you need superb flying skills.
If you stand for a few minutes and watch them in flight, it cannot fail to lift the spirits. I find increasingly that birds have that effect on me. There's a joy in watching them, in observing their flight, in hearing their song. I'm becomming more aware of the songs now. For years, I've only been able to identify blackbirds by their song, but I've doubled that now. I can do great tits as well! (cuckoos don't count)
I heard something the other day that sounded like two stones being knocked together. I couldn't see the culprit in spite of looking hard, but as I was on heathland at the time, I assume it was probably a stonechat.
I read
temeres journal a lot and that always gives me the desire to see if I can spot something that he hasn't (the only reason I have a chance is that we have some different habitats over here and the people on Brownsea Island are very good at pointing things out). predatrix have me a copy of 'How to be a bad birdwatcher' by Simon Barnes and I'd recommend that to anyone who enjoys watching birds on a casual basis but doesn't consider themself a birder. Last, but not least, being involved with the Wildlife Trusts for a while now has increased my awareness of all kinds of wildlife.Anyway, to return to the house martins. I may not be much of a bird watcher, but I've always associated the return of the house martins with things being right in the world. I look forward to it every year. One day there's none at all. Two days later, there's a whole crowd of them.
I saw my first one on Wednesday evening. When I went for a walk on Friday, there they all were - swooping through the air in tight-turning glides that would have made a fighter pilot envious. When your diet is flying insects, you need superb flying skills.
If you stand for a few minutes and watch them in flight, it cannot fail to lift the spirits. I find increasingly that birds have that effect on me. There's a joy in watching them, in observing their flight, in hearing their song. I'm becomming more aware of the songs now. For years, I've only been able to identify blackbirds by their song, but I've doubled that now. I can do great tits as well! (cuckoos don't count)
I heard something the other day that sounded like two stones being knocked together. I couldn't see the culprit in spite of looking hard, but as I was on heathland at the time, I assume it was probably a stonechat.
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I have yet to see the first swift of the year, though. I think they're usually a few days after the martins - though I haven't been keeping track as long as you have...
Something you might like: the Castlepoint underground car park has been colonised by a ridiculous quantity of wagtails (mostly pied, though I've seen the odd grey). If you walk through there after dusk, the little trees in the ornamental beds are loaded down with them and they're standing about all over the tarmac, just sleeping. There were more in winter (I suppose they came there to sleep in the warm) but there are still plenty now.