Corvid Cornucopia

It's been a cold grey old weekend, ideal for staying indoors and watching the rugby yesterday. Today however I began to develop cabin fever, just as the clouds parted. Blue sky began to eradicate the grey blanket and sunshine filled the early evening sky. Thus just as the clock struck 4pm I headed over to the village for an hour.

 

I've been meaning to do this for a week or so as the rooks are in full nest building mode now. They're moving about the village this year, not sure if they've been disturbed or just fancy a change, but some quite young trees are being colonised quite rapidly. Driving through every day to work I've watched five nests occur in trees over the road in just a week and a couple of singles now occupy outlying trees, like sentries to the main garrison. I have a soft spot for all corvids and in those brief minutes as I cycled around the village, camera and binoculars swinging precariously, I managed to spy a good number of rook and jackdaw, carrion crow, 6 magpies together in a flock and a raven, which took me by surprise. We don't get many jays in this part of Somerset as most trees are ash and sycamore on the wet moor grassland but no matter, I was in my element.

 

There have been two rookeries around the village for years, about half a mile apart. One by the village hall (above and below) and one by Cedar Farm. A lot of activity today, jostling, calling, flying in with twigs, back out again to plunder,  with about half and half rook and jackdaws in the trees. I was surprised to see so many jackdaw pairs in amongst the rook nests but they offer mutual protection and as the jackdaws aren't nesting yet, why go elsewhere. Conserve your energy.

 

There were ten nests here and it was lovely to see the jackdaws noisily wheeling over the rookery too.

 

 

Just a few hundred yards away the new nests are being built and as I stopped my bike underneath the trees which can only be 20 years old, they noisily chastised me for disturbing them.

 

I cycled on into the village and passing Cedar Farm I hear a strange guttural sound, almost like someone is being strangled call. I recognised it instantly over the rooks relentless caw cawings... a raven. I watched a pair of ravens repeatedly barrel rolling last weekend over a copse at Tyntesfield and can therefore only assume they are nesting more frequently all around this area now. Ravens were always present in winter as they loafed about the coast a couple of miles away but in spring usually disappeared to the Mendips or South Wales both about 15 miles away as the raven flies.  Anyway this one was in the huge cedar that stands guard over the farm. As I listened the more familiar cronk cronk emerged from the dense foliage and it was off over the fields - just time for a quick record shot before it headed over to the coast. I heard it again ten minutes or so later but didn't see it. That cedar would be a perfect nest platform for the raven, whose nest is absolutely huge. My fingers are crossed.

 

Cedar farm is to the left of this image and the rookery, if that's the right term for a succession of nests that straggle out over three trees in the hedge line to the right (one of which as seen in the second image below)

 

What a lovely way to spend an hour on the Sunday of the Spring Equinox. In total I counted 33 rook nests. Back home I quickly sketched a map to show their location. The two single nests intrigue me as they are both about a quarter of a mile from any other nests. Outliers? young birds unsure of their position in the flock? I hope they do okay as one in particular had a carrion crow observing it. It's safety in numbers now that spring has arrived.

Drawing in of the dark

Tomorrow is my fathers birthday. Of course this has absolutely nothing to do with this posting, except that his birthday is almost at the time of the Autumn Equinox. So today I thought I'd prepare for this period in the year when day length and night are equal, as from now on night lengthens until the winter solstice.

I love this time of the year, when on fine days the warmth in the sun can remind us briefly of carefree summer days on the beach, or that glorious feeling when walking amongst buildings at night feeling the days heat being released back into the air. The above painting of mine was done at this time of year to remind me of the bright colours, light and contrast and the perpetual joy of never ending days by the sea.

But all too soon at the beginning of September the nights begin to draw in and before we know it it is dark before 8pm and the Equinox approaches. There is something special about equality, and on the 21st of September, or thereabouts, the world moves into it's winter phase, albeit by clinging onto autumn for a while yet.

If like me you are interested in old Celtic festivals, then you will know that at this time the Sun enters Libra, and with it brings about balance and harmony, a readjustment and therefore a time of change and transformation. In days of old, thanks were also given at this time for the safe deliverance of the harvest, hence the Harvest Festival.

But as another watercolour of mine hopefully portrayed, this time of year can also mean still settled days and misty cool nights when just being out and about in the British countryside is enough to restore any balance in life as we revel in the glories of autumnal colours.

So as we move towards the Equinox this week, I leave you with the notion of the double spiral, the symbol of the Autumn Equinox, in essence this endless cycle of change brings with it renewal and new opportunities, look back with thanks at what the spring brought and look forward to welcome the turning. Rest and recharge as the nights draw dark, look inwards and dream a new dream.

Finally one feature of many celebrations at this time is the making of a 'talking stick', a recently cut stick having thread wrapped around it, the idea being it facilitates discussion, thought and word. In a group setting, the stick is passed around, only the person holding the stick can speak, and can not be interrupted until he or she has finished, when the stick is passed on to the next person.

What better way to spend a dark evening, friends round, some cider maybe to celebrate the autumn, light the house with candles and allow some convivial conversation to occur.

There is a lot to be said for the drawing in of the dark.