I was very tempted to skip writing about my visit today. There are only so many ways of saying I went birding, I saw very little, I went home.
But actually in its sheer direness this morning was worth writing about. Everything that could go wrong did go wrong. Let's start with last night. My email pinged with a message from Mike Lane attaching a photo from a Morton Bagot resident I know and like well. The photo was of a female Sparrowhawk devouring a Feral Pigeon (or racing pigeon) on his lawn. I understood that the observer wanted me to call in. I guessed what this would be about.
Scroll forward to this morning. Dave was unable to attend due to ill health (not coronavirus I am assured), so I set off, returning 15 minutes later after forgetting my phone. It was a sunny, though windy morning so I chose to wear a light flimsy summer coat.
I walked along the road intending to call in about the Sparrowhawk, when Mike L happened along. As I suspected he had given his opinion that the bird was a Sparrowhawk, but the photographer wasn't convinced it was not a Peregrine. He believes he sees Peregrines frequently; on telegraph poles, on trees, on wires.
Anyway, he was out, so no awkward conversations were required.
About half an hour into my circuit I noticed that my camera was nearly out of battery. This meant having to save it for that heart-stopping rarity that never comes.
The birding highlight of the day flew over, a Siskin. Actually, a Mistle Thrush was singing its mournful song, so that was quite nice (but I couldn't see that either).
As I approached the flash field I realised two things, a large dark cloud was approaching fast, and, well let's just say I had a tummy ache.
So after seeing two Shelduck and two Wigeon I turned on my heels and almost, but not quite, got back to my car without getting soaked.
A day to forget.
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