Another sunny day, the easterly breeze now much less strong. Dave turned up and we walked around the patch observing the necessary social distancing throughout.
Several Chiffchaffs sang, and the rally driver was having the morning off. All seemed serene until we got to the flash field and I reached for my camera to have a go at a Long-tailed Tit. Out of battery, my camera said.
Its a strange thing. I managed to birdwatch for thirty years quite contentedly with binoculars, telescope, and notebook. Then the digital age arrived and therefore a succession of cameras and this blog. So now I'm not so content, in fact I'm downright grumpy for the rest of the morning. Obviously not to the extent of not looking at birds, but definitely a feeling that whether we saw anything or not mattered less. I'm clearly hooked.
We relocated the Little Grebe, but not the Little Ringed Plovers. The pair of Shelduck flew in, and a few Teal and Snipe were seen.
Then we heard a Kingfisher. It might not seem much, but I'll add a little context. The species regularly appears from about July, then rarely into late autumn. I once recorded one here in January, but never before between February and July. Dave back-tracked in the hope of persuading the bird to show. It was, appropriately enough, on the Kingfisher Pool. He was somewhat successful, seeing a streak of blue and orange when he flushed it. It landed right in front of me, before taking off and heading away across the field. Oh for a working camera!
The incident evidently affected my mental health because after seeing little else I then called Dave over to see a huge bird, er Stork or Crane, err oh! A light aircraft heading our way.
Perhaps I should stick to moths.
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