Christmas On The Move

It has, for want of a better phrase, been a mad-dash Christmas week. Those of a pedantic disposition could argue it was nine days rather than a week, but I for one am not counting the days, just the season. However I did do a lot of driving.

And so it began on December 23rd.

Sunrise was almost two hours away as we set off from Somerset at 6.35am. By the time we reached this road up to the village of Slaley in Northumberland it was half an hour to sunset and getting dark.  Not only dark but wet and quite windy. That wind would accompany our week in this remote cottage, all of which added to the atmosphere of festive escapism.

Our home for the week sat in splendid rural isolation hard by Slaley Forest. So rural at one point a flock of crossbill flew over the garden and on Christmas Day the sad remnants of a woodcock slain by a passing vehicle interrupted our visit to Tyneside with the fatted goose. Located on a hill farm of suckler cattle and sheep (plus four alpaca) the landscape was alive with wildlife, even in December. Rook roosted in the Scots pine shelter-belt, with the usual garden species on the feeders. A kestrel was a daily visitor but due to the volatile weather proper observation was tricky, however over the woods a regular scrap took place between a buzzard and carrion crow. Fieldfare, redwing and a single mistle thrush added variety to the huge gull flocks heading to roost each evening to what I assumed was to Derwent Reservoir about four miles away. 

Not everything involved wildlife. We managed to stagger down to Hexham a couple of times taking in and enjoying the Christmas atmosphere of the Abbey and catching up with friends.

We were fortunate to be staying during a full moon period. This is dark skies country and on Boxing Day morning at 4am I couldn't resist a short walk in the moonlight, moonlight which was strong enough to read a book by. It made for quite atmospheric walking too. Of course what this image does not show is the wind. Without exception every day provided strong winds, on a couple of days gales with sustained windspeed nudging 50mph, gusting higher. It simply never stopped blowing and as the farmer said they'd had three weeks of what the weather forecasters called volatile, I'd call it stormy, and rain, the rain was a frequent accompanying phenomenon with occasional breaks often at night. The last time I'd been in such relentless wind was on Orkney, very similar.

We also had snow. Admittedly this was wet snow, not enough to make a snowman but as with the Met Office's definition of a white Christmas, on our cottage one snowflake fell confirming a white holiday stay. How we realised it was snowing came by chance. Mrs Wessex-Reiver was looking out the bedroom window while it was still dark. I looked to where she was and thought the light coming in looked odd but then the moment passed. It wasn't until half an hour later when some daylight had appeared that we realised snow had fallen. Not crisp and even sadly as by mid morning it had mostly turned to rain.

It was the same day as the snow fell that we headed to Tyneside to see my father for a second day, the first being Christmas Day. On the North Sea coast by Whitburn we still had the wind, the sea was rough, however it was 11oC (7oC by the time we'd returned to the cottage). Quite a contrast to the morning.

All too soon our week was over, possibly as we'd had enough of the weather and returned south a day early. Not before another visit to Hexham where we not only discovered a fantastic independent bookshop where we could have spent hours perusing their stock but quirky little asides such as this advertisement for a clock restorer - these clocks are all broken but used in an alleyway display. And, as in many places these days the post box had a knitted hat. Hexham is a lovely market town.

By Saturday the 30th we were back in Somerset and after the eight hour drive the day before a quiet morning was required. We stayed local in Weston Super Mare having brunch at the Revo Kitchen which now occupies the former Sealife Centre. A bustling place a million miles from the remote area around Slaley and remarkably in the garden we have three daffodils in flower and a snowdrop almost about to open. Springtime in December.

Which all neatly brings me to New Year's Eve. We needed to stretch our legs so where better to head to than the Hawk and Owl Trust reserve on the Avalon Marshes. I'd heard short eared owl were here before Christmas, though on this visit despite there being plenty of other activity, no SEO's were to be seen. I'm fond of this reserve having watched it develop from arable farmland and peat workings. On our short four mile walk I realised I'd not been here for about a year, and therefore witnessed many changes including the maturity of the dragonfly pond which I'd last seen newly dug. Some nice hedge laying going on too. And the sun was out.

And so we reached the end of our walk, and the end of the year. A year in which many wildlife watching trips were curtailed due to other commitments, something I plan to rectify in 2024. How on earth we got to the year 2024 is beyond me. I'll be sixty in April and so need to rekindle the childlike naturalist spirit of encounter as I become Wessex-Reiver the sexagenarian. In fact it's starting tomorrow in earnest as I'm off to Slimbridge to kick start the birding year with some friends, I can't wait.

Happy New Year.

 

My binoculars languished elsewhere

December the 23rd already. It was a mild and blustery Friday, heavy rain overnight had moved north, leaving the landscape saturated but with little rain in the air. Dramatic clouds too. Mrs Wessex Reiver attempts to do a walk a day, today then I thought I'd join her. Given the rain overnight, I suggested Cheddar Reservoir.  If nothing else we'd return from the walk looking less like we'd been dragged through a ploughed field by abluting bovines. 

Created in the 1930s to supply Bristol with clean drinking water, I often think it is oddly named as the dam-contained 135 million gallons of water sits between 'cheesy' Cheddar and the 'Medieval' town of Axbridge.  It was from the latter town we accessed the reservoir this morning. Parking in the free car-park we walked up through the square and along the gently climbing High Street. The houses on each side were bedecked with Christmas trees set at a jaunty 45 degree angle rammed into first floor flag pole tubes bolted to the house wall exteriors. In the summer these flag tubes are used to display flags during the Medieval Pageant.  Today though is all about a festive walk.

In the commotion to set off I'd forgotten my binoculars, which had been a secondary reason for coming here as the reservoir is a designated SSSI for its birdlife, especially in winter. I'm not sure if it still is but it used to be the top place in southern England for wintering coot [Fulica atra], with a few thousand having been recorded here, though numbers have dropped in recent years. Their presence, as a dark raft of activity,  is a boon for birdwatchers as rarer passage migrants will flop down into this melee of coot for safety in numbers.  Great northern diver, Slavonian grebe and green winged teal have all been spotted here along with red crested pochard. It simply takes patience to scan across the coot flotilla looking for an aberration in shape using binoculars. Not today however, not with with my binoculars languishing elsewhere. The reservoir has a shallower edge on the Cheddar side by the Boat Club and can lead to some gems of the wader and wetland variety. I saw three glossy ibis one year, and at a different time a grey phalarope which I viewed only feet away from me completely unfazed by the attending crowd. For what is simply a circular reservoir in a flat Somerset landscape it has a lot of birdlife to offer. Partly due to it being the nearest body, indeed the largest body of freshwater, close by the Bristol Channel, a well known bird migration highway. An ideal stop-off then.

Today the generalists of this area were in evidence, grey wagtail, pied wagtail, meadow pipit, carrion crow, mallard, jackdaw, great tit, cormorant, coot of course, tufted duck, magpie, great crested grebe and a myriad of gulls were easy to spot with the naked eye (my ability restricted as my binoculars languishing elsewhere - you get the idea of my ineptitude)

What I love about Cheddar though is that while you walk its near 3 km circular route, to one side of you is open water, to the other marginal grassland with standing mature trees and hedges. During previous visits I've come with a scope and scanned these features with a birds eye view. Great spotted and green woodpecker, snipe, bullfinch, nuthatch, treecreeper, linnet, winter thrushes and members of the titmouse family are quite regular. The vantage point on the reservoir path is at tree canopy height thus  looking across into the top most branches gives a perfect view into these mature oaks, sycamore and ash. Better in many ways than walking along the lane down below and looking up.

What struck me today however was that most of these trees still had their leaves, albeit in senescence colours. Despite a recent prolonged cold spell, followed by wind and rain, those leaves cling on with a certain tenacity, giving an odd autumnal feel to this midwinter walk, and a splash of much needed colour it has to be said.

It was monochrome and dark even at 11am with grey clouds scudding over to the Mendip Hills in the distance. It remained mild and dry however, that is until we'd reached the furthest point from shelter. And then it rained. An odd rain that reduced us to quite damp ramblers in a few minutes but rain that didn't seem to be falling. It brought me to mind of being in the hills of  Northumberland - heavier than drizzle, but lighter than rain, it cloaks everything in dreek saturation at an alarming speed.

That mizzly-rain remained with us for the rest of the walk, that is until we arrived back at the entrance to the reservoir.  This entrance from the Axbridge side is flanked by an avenue of very mature, and lovely, birch trees. Some are old enough to be putting out buttress trunks and roots to stabilise them which is not often seen in the short lived betula genus.  These wonderfully gnarled trunks are very tactile and worthy of a few moments to wonder at and caress the deeply fissured bark, as presumably treecreeper and tits do on a regular basis, foraging for spiders and insects making their own homes here.

Having walked 3.37 miles according to the phone app, it was time to retrace our steps back to 'Medieval' Axbridge and a light refreshment in the Lamb Inn (dating back to 1480). A friendly little place now run by the Butcombe brewery. Already in-situ locals warned me of the wobbly stool I found myself perched on, with an air of 'he's not from around these parts'. Luckily I didn't provide the luncheon entertainment of falling hither and yon across the floor as it collapsed beneath me. Mushroom soup consumed, I'd hoped to finish this walk by visiting the church close by. I've been visiting Axbridge for nearly 30 years and never made it into the church, a tradition which was not going to be broken today as a Seasonal wedding was taking place, signposted by a white Royce parked outside sporting white ribbons. Another time then. 

Just time to retrace our steps to the car, but not before a quick image of King John's Hunting Lodge in the Market Square. Owned by the National Trust, the Lodge now houses a local history museum. This 15th Century wool merchant's house has nothing to do with either a hunting lodge or for that matter King John (who died in 1216 nearly three centuries before this building was constructed). A fine looking building, and if nothing else this walk revealed a pattern in Axbridge of naming things, such as the reservoir, that have nothing to do with their location or origin. 

So that's a pre-Christmas walk completed, though no doubt there'll be more over the Festive Season, maybe even with my binoculars. Home then to sit next to my 'twiggy' tree. This tradition of 'twiggy' trees began in the 1960's when my father, a production artist, realised the real fir tree they had put up was dying rapidly and would drop all its needles by Christmas Eve. Wandering out into the nearby countryside he felled a handsome shrub, painted it white and applied decorations. Most years after that we had a real Christmas tree and a twiggy tree in the house. And I am keeping the tradition going. 

This year I've used a number of smaller branches, mostly brought in by Julie while out walking, and bound them to a willow branch using cotton rope. It looked quite effective unpainted (like a silver birch), but I decided to paint it white as is tradition. I have to say, painting twigs and branches with white paint is not for the faint hearted. Two hours it took this year. I'm pleased with it and as with most things at this time of the year, it is all about tradition, though sadly having lost my mum in November Christmas may be a strange, and not traditional event. 

That said, if you are reading this, may I wish you a Very Happy Christmas.

Jackdaw Roost on Christmas Day

What better way to spend Christmas Day evening than immersing oneself in jackdaws.  Following the Festive Fare, I headed off to West Boldon village in Tyneside with my wife. Fresh air and a bit of exercise wrapped up in something which had intrigued me the day before. 

I was born and spent the first few faltering years of my life in West Boldon, then an urban rural district, now part of the great conurbation of the North East. Back then there were 12 farms and numerous market gardens. It's where I cut my natural history teeth. But back in the 1970's apart from a rookery in the next village, I can not recall a massed jackdaw roost. Yet on Christmas Eve driving back to my parents I spied a huge gathering of jackdaws over the old part of the village. 

Which is why at about 3.30pm I stood under this black snow. Very difficult to count them but I'd suggest 1000 as there were a hundred + in each tree in all directions. Just magical spending thirty minutes or so as the dusk gathered being enthralled by these birds. Very few rooks as far as I could tell, just jack-a-jack jackdaws, coming home to roost. The best Christmas present ever.

The icing on the cake..... almost!

Well it's here, Christmas 2011. As I write this at 05.50hrs on Christmas Day, I'd like to wish you all a very Merry Christmas, and all prosperousness (is that a word) for 2012.

The following blog was meant to be written yesterday, on Christmas Eve, but for some reason the photos wouldn't upload, maybe everyone was last minute buying on-line so the systems crashed.

As a Christmas treat to myself, I have bought a feeding station. That's not quite true. It was offered at 50% off on the Crocus website in early December, but, after buying it for my parents, it arrived after we'd visited them for Christmas last weekend. So having arrived too late for them, as I'd bought something else in the meantime, I thought I'm going to have this for myself, as an early Santa present.

So mid day on Christmas Eve, I began the unpacking and assembly. I have to say I didn't realise there was as much kit. One of the reasons I initially bought it, was that my seed feeder had been damaged in a gale, so looking for a replacement, I found this which with the discount cost just a few pounds more (Scrooge is alive and well in Somerset). So having lost one feeder, I now have 2 seed feeders, a nut and fat block feeder, seed tray, bird bath and fat ball hanger. It's just missing the tinsel and Sat-Nav.

So after 45 minutes of top notch DIY skills (I only had to re-do the design twice), the thing was up, in a temporary position. While I was putting it up, I wondered how long it would be before birds began to use it. I was soon to find out......

...... because, well this is no word of a lie, this blue tit arrived on the feeder, seconds after I'd walked away, I'd not even reached the house when Julie said, look behind you. Fantastic, and followed in quick succession by a great tit and a robin....

This amazed me. I do feed the birds anyway, but in less than 15 seconds from erecting it in place they were using it. I assume they were watching me put this together from the wings, and eager to investigate, as in the blue tit photograph you can see a robin in the conifer, watching and waiting.

That done the next job was to put labels on the sloe gin. And here they are. I think I've got the marketing description perfect now........ click to enlarge.

And so the last job of Christmas Eve was the ice the Christmas cake. I've never iced a cake before, so Julie and I set to. The mixture was slightly runny, but by surreptitious use of Boyle's Law of equilibrium motion, we managed to make it look half presentable.

So it just leaves me once again to wish you all a Happy, Peaceful and Merry Christmas

And as I write this I can hear a robin singing in the dark, ....that's my first bird in the NHU Bird Cup. Bring it on!!

Christmas Blogging-Bird Competition

I wonder if any of you bloggers out there fancy an informal, not for profit, just for the fun of taking part, birdwatching competition over the festive period? I could collate the entries and publish in January. I'd prefer this not to be an out and out competition so there will be no winners or losers, just a list of those taking part (should you decide to take part). Read more here...........

In the meantime, may I wish all the bloggers out there who read and comment on my postings, a very Merry Christmas with this image above from a photo I took 2 years ago. Lets hope we can all do it again in 2011, when I'll be back to post some more, Tales of a Wessex Reiver

............. now where are those waxwings???

I'll be back soon

To those of you who are still reading this very irregular blog, a warm Happy New Year to you all.

Well I've moved house at last and almost in a state of being able to stop unpacking boxes and relax with a blog entry or two. I moved on December 21st, I'd not recommend moving that close to Christmas, especially as the evening before it began snowing and well as we all know, the snow hasn't really ended yet, 3 weeks and counting. Quite strange moving to a new house and feeling like never had a chance to go outside yet.

I did manage to get out on Christmas Day joining friends on the Cotswold edge for a picnic in a gamekeepers hut... and it was snowing. An unusual Christmas for me but I loved it.... even had a festive fire!

And so to bed as a flock of cirl buntings beckon tomorrow in Devon, weather permitting ........ more soon, I promise!