The Spring Equinox Rooks

 In a non scientific way I have counted the rook nests in the village for a number of years now. In previous years my count took place in late February or early March, after which a couple more nests invariably appeared. This year I delayed my count slightly and waited until the spring equinox, not just because it was the warmest day so far in 2025, but also the first day of my retirement. Until this moment I'd been too busy finishing my career, and work, at the BBC.

The afternoon was warm. The thermometer in the greenhouse nudged 40oC, outside it was around half this, not bad for the 20th of March. With little wind and visually perfect blue skies I set off walking the half mile or so to the village to make my count.

First the site I refer to as the bend in the lane. This is interesting. In previous years there have been one or two nests in the far right tree. This year there are nine spreading across all four trees, themselves around a quarter of a mile from the main rookery. Why the expansion here I can't say, but I hope this is a sign of a healthy population expanding their territory.  

Walking further towards the village, the two core trees as I like to think of them, on the left have, as in previous years, hosted the bulk of the nests in the village, nineteen in total this year in the main tree and five in an adjacent one. The trees to the left (and below) at Cypress Farm, have increased nest numbers too, with nine this year, quite interesting to see poplars being used.

I spent a little time near to and under the main core trees. I've mentioned this before but it never ceases to surprise me that they nest over the lane, now covered with sticks. They're safe in the trees of course but this is a busy commuter short cut from Weston Super Mare to a major road, plus a busy agricultural area with thunderous tractors passing through. Not a quiet spot then but as it is host every year to the core rookery structures, they must like this spot.

Not far from the core area, three nests have appeared in what I can loosely term a new site by the holiday cottages, only a sticks-throw from the core. Three nests here, but room for more.

That's a good total then, 9 on the bend, 9 at Cypress Farm, 19 plus 5 in the two core trees and 3 at the holiday cottage = 45 if my sums are correct. That's two more nests than in 2024. 

Not a bad way to spend the first day of my retirement, messing about in warm sunshine watching the behaviour of rooks in the village.

Rocking Rooks

 

Earlier in the week I finally managed to do my annual rooks-on-the-nest count in the village. I've done this for a few years now, just in and around the actual village itself. I could expand the range of nest sites I might look at as in recent years a number of new rookeries have developed within a 2-3 mile radius. I did a quick drive-by count of those recently and there are 7 new rookeries in the area, all on fairly young trees by roads, rather than traditional mature copse and woodland trees. While it is interesting to speculate why this population boom is happening, food supply (more sheep farming on grassland, fewer cattle farms), climate change, lack of persecution etcetera, remaining faithful to my original site allows for a little consistency. Though none of what I do is scientifically rigorous. I'm just interested.

The above image gives the best view of most of the nests. During the wet and windy winter just coming to an end every nest from 2023 was trashed. By January not one nest remained, I can therefore be virtually certain all those nests I observed this week were 2024 active nests. In total I noted active nests in six different trees. Three nests are on the lane into the village, with a carrion crow nest nearby, a further nine were in two sets of trees on the village outskirts, and a set of three nests were on the farm trees about half a mile away, making 15 nests in total away from the main site. 

That main site consists of two trees holding the bulk of the nests, 23 in total. These two trees have been at the centre of rook activity for a number of years.  New for this year an adjacent tree was hosting five nests, I've not seen nests here before. In total then 43 active nests within the village or no further than half a mile away. That figure, in common with my casual observation of the surrounding wider area, is up slightly, in most years the figure is around the mid to high thirties. I used to do a count of actual birds based on two birds to a nest. Recently though I was chatting to a corvid observer who uses 2.8 birds per nest, with the 0.8 taking into account non breeding individuals remaining within the spatial cohesion of the colony during the breeding season. With that in mind, the village of Wick St Lawrence has, by my Heath Robinson efforts,  a rook population of 43 nests x 2.8 = 120.4 rooks. I may round it down to 120, that 0.4 of a bird is maybe a statistical outlier...or not very well and missing 0.6 of it's body. Eric the half rook if you will.

Given the wider circle of rookeries outside of the village and a quick count as I drove past I'd estimate within a three mile circle there could be a population of 250-300 rooks. 

As an aside, in my home I now have a pair of jackdaws nesting in the roof space of my home (lack of maintenance has a benefit). The noise they create building a nest in the void is astonishing. No doubt I'll write about these in a future post. 

Revisiting The Rookeries of Wick St Lawrence

It has been under a month since I last did a count of the rook activity in the village, March the 14th to be precise, and much has changed. Some winners and oddly a strange loss.

Finally the weather in this part of Somerset has improved. We've had rain, more rain than I'd like to see again during spring. I think this may be the first year I've not experienced one of those dry early March days when there is dust billowing along the lanes, which for me is one of the signs of spring arriving, dry roads and dust on the car.  But we're in April now and after a Biblical deluge on Saturday morning it seems we're set fair for a few dry days. Perfect then for a pre supper amble to catch up on the rooks in the village on a Sunday evening.

A month is a long time in the natural world. On my last visit as I came home from work, it was around 6.30pm, bleak and almost dark. By my next visit last night at roughly the same time of day now the clocks have changed the sun was strong and the landscape was beginning to emerge - which is a good thing given that rooks begin to nest with an eye on their eggs hatching as the trees come into leaf (for a little protection for the young) while the ground is still moist but warming up nicely thus provisioning more invertebrates for the hungry chicks. 

Those chicks stay in the nest for about 30 days. Interestingly at the beginning of their life the male is the only provider of food, the female remains on the nest only getting involved once the chicks are around two weeks of age. It is all a little taxing for the adults as they can exhibit asynchronous hatching, in other words the eggs laid can be delayed somewhat and hatch at different times. This can mean that from the first egg hatching to the final fledging from the nest can take six or seven weeks. Exhausting for the adults who don't themselves feed well at this time and often lose a good percentage of their body condition. That's why this time of the year and into early summer the weather is important. A hot dry spring with baked earth is not good for rooks as the young fledge, or any other ground feeder for that matter. Hopefully then 2023 will be a good year if this cycle of damp wet days continues as the days lengthen. But I digress, the real issue as I walked the lane was to count the nests.

I'd noticed while driving through the village that a number of new nests had appeared since my last visit. The three which were formerly at the pond corner, now numbered six - three in one tree, two in another and a singleton, though I'm not sure that the lone nest on the far left is active.  Possibly a dummy run nest which is common. 

The three nests on the right, and below were very much active which is good to see given the extensive tree work that happened here in January to open up the dew-pond, which is beginning to come to life after the dredging and chopping back. 

Standing guard in the warm sunlight above.

A single new nest has also appeared in trees by the old school building. This line of trees was once the main hub for the rookery in the village, then around ten years ago they stopped coming here. Disturbance probably, there's a resident herring gull pair here now, but for whatever reason they're back this year, or at least one nest is.

However more worrying is that the nests which were occupied in early March at this location above have disappeared. Did they naturally go or, as I hope has not happened, have they been removed? This location was where nests had remained from last season, and I noticed there is a ladder against one of the trees, trees which border a Farmstay touring caravan site which has recently changed hands. I'm going to be generous and say the rooks have literally 'upped sticks' and moved across the road, as there has been a more than doubling of nests here since my last visit.

On that last visit there were twelve nests in a single tree. On this latest visit that tree had nineteen nests. The trees either side of that had five and four nests respectively.  That's twenty eight nests. Which is not unsurprising as when doing a rough bird count on my last visit there were as many non-nesters as nesters based on the birds present and who flew off when I approached. Those non-nesters have presumably then caught up with delayed nesting activity. 

It was while taking these images that a family, with dog in tow, emerged from the caravan touring site and asked what I was doing. Newly arrived here for their Easter holidays they were interested to know I kept an eye on the rooks in the village. As like the rook I'm a resident myself, I forget sometimes I live in a tourist area.

Hard to count all of the nineteen nests in this image so one of a single bird and nest then.

It does make me wonder why this tree below has always been a favourite for the rook. It isn't particularly tall, not in a favourable location (to us humans) being right next to the road and a house, but the rook love it. They nest here every year and roost here in the winter. What that does show however is that an inconspicuous looking tree if  it were to be felled, could have catastrophic effect on this rook population. And that is always a risk of management taking place without local knowledge. This tree is not just a tree, it hosts a community. 

It was all looking promising then, six (or 5) nests by the pond, one nest by the old school, and twenty eight by the village, 35 nests, that is a minimum of seventy rook plus associated non-breeders. However all was not finished yet. Retracing my steps back home after a lovely forty five minutes bobbling about watching the rooks I noticed back at the farm by the River Banwell that there were some more nests. I'd not noticed these on the way out as they were behind me. These nests are around a quarter of a mile from the main site in the village, in trees by the farm buildings.

There is often winter activity here but I can't recall seeing nests, or maybe never noticed them. The question then in my mind is  - are these birds from the same social group as those in the village simply finding more suitable trees to nest in. Or given these nests are somewhat separate are these a social outlier, maybe newly paired birds beginning a new rookery some distance off from the main rookery, albeit of only three nests. I can't get any closer to these nests from the lane but may have a wander over there soon if I'm allowed by Roger the farmer.

So the count - where have I got to on the 2nd of April with the rooks of Wick St Lawrence?

6 x nests by pond (or 5 if one is inactive)

1 x nest by old school

28 x nests in the village itself

3 x nests by the farm a quarter of a mile distant

I make that thirty eight nests in the village, making the population here at least 76 individuals. Which is even higher than I'd got to during my last visit in mid March, then by estimating breeding and non breeding individuals I'd got to around sixty birds.

I'll leave the rooks of Wick St Lawrence alone now for the season, as I'm pretty sure the number of nests won't increase now. That's a good total of nests for the area, as while rook are not in serious threat nationally they are in a slow decline, like much of lowland farmland birdlife is. We need to let nature have a few raggedly and unkept places to live in - and spill a little more grain at harvest - and leave those trees standing. But that is for another day, especially if it stays warm, with a little rain, but mainly sunny in this corner of the West Country.

The Rookeries of St Lawrence

Back at the end of January I wrote of the rook community at Wick St Lawrence, my local area. Back then the rooks were loafing about but aside from a couple of old nests which were being utilised, the bulk of the rookery activity had not begun.  Last evening though, as sunsets are definitely occurring later, I stopped on my way home to check what is going on.

Plus, as I realised later, the blurred images due to the low light bring (in my view) an enhanced atmosphere to the images I took. 

It was close to 6.30pm by the time I'd arrived home after my commute. The light remained but wasn't that great. However it was a preferred time for counting nests and birds as they were coming in to settle for the evening, allowing for a more accurate count of the population.  At this time of the year we are at the cusp of massed winter roosts ending and socially cohesive communal rookeries developing. An interesting book from the 1930s by G. K. Yeates [2] first looked into this in depth, though some of his observations were discussed and revised soon after publication by one J. P. Burkitt in his short article on young rook at a rookery [1]. Yet it was Yeates who mentioned that mid March is a cusp time between winter roosts ending and the rookery roosts forming, which he estimated to be about a week before the first eggs lain. Certainly down here I'd suggest this happens two or 3 weeks earlier - late February?

All the nests are around the boundary of a large grass field. The first image above of three nests was especially welcome as this area had been heavily modified over the winter months. Luckily a couple of standing trees were left and three nests were in use. To my right, the trees by the field edge had six nests, though the exact number is hard to observe in that image. A quick count then, nine nests so far, meaning a minimum of 18 birds, assuming 2 birds to a nest. I didn't count the hangers on, more specifically, non-breeding, young, unpaired singletons or late nesting rook

Turning then to the main rookery area of trees hard by the road entering the village itself, a total of 12 nests were visible in the one tree. Remarkable that only two weeks ago not a single nest was here. Therefore a rough estimate, 24 rooks here plus the 18 from the other trees, 42 birds minimum. However there were a lot more birds loafing about in these trees and in other parts of the village. As I walked closer they fidgeted and squabbled, the noise was quite deafening. Below the trees on the lane was a matrix of sticks dropped, or fallen from the nursery structures above. I tried to count the birds as I walked and, while nearly impossible there were certainly more than 24 in this one spot. 

Then as I walked under the nests the formerly agitated and fidgety birds who'd been watching me approach now arose from the branches en-masse in an almighty crescendo of noise the moment I stopped walking. That is quite usual for corvids, and other wildlife. They observe an approach and as long as there's nothing to worry about they'll hold their station but chatter away. However once movement stops immediately there's an eruption of birds calling loudly, both harsh caws of alarm and communication and the softer whistling contact calls rook make.  Many of the birds wheeled just above the branches and then very soon began to return onto their nests, though a good number left the area completely, floating away like wood smoke in the blustery wind. I quickly withdrew and retraced my steps a little thus allowing the nesting birds to regain their former position as soon as possible.

That lift-off allowed me a rough calculation of individuals in this one assemblage and I would estimate around 40, so heading towards double the nesting pairs of 24. And in doing that rough calculation, shall we say an additional 40% non breeding birds in the community, then adding those here and the others in the trees I'd suggest somewhere over 60 birds in this small rookery encircling this large grass field. Not far away, less than a mile across the fields, is another rookery at Hewish of a similar size. Whether there is cross communication between these two rookeries I don't know but it wouldn't surprise me with these sociable crows.

Walking back to the car I noticed that twenty nine rook (counted from the image) were making use of the power lines crossing the field that the rook nests border. Most of these individuals were those who had flown off from the main rookery area, but not all, and probably these were a mixture of non-breeding individuals and maybe males waiting to return to the rookery. Moments after the image was taken they erupted again en-masse and headed back to their respective sub-groups in the trees, leaving me to take all I'd seen in and assess this wonderful end to the daily commute from work, counting rooks.

References

BURKITT, J. P - British Birds April 1935. Volume 28 Issue 11. NOTES ON THE ROOK:

With special reference to the proportion of young in flocks, and the change over from winter roosts to the rookery.

YEATES, G.K. The Life of the Rook. Philip Allan 1934

Late Afternoon Walk To Check On The Crows

Time of day makes a huge difference to what is seen in the countryside. Earlier this week I wrote up on my hour or so walking and looking for corvids at lunchtime. Today I headed off on the same route though as the sun began to dip. My aim this time was to try and follow where the jackdaw head to at dusk. Their main jackdaw roost here is at Worlebury Woods about a mile away towards the sea. however a sizeable number of jackdaw head in the opposite direction at dusk and I've never managed to discover where they actually go. So with my work finished for the day half an hour before sunset I headed off into the cold. First corvid an obliging magpie.

As usual once I reached 'Rogers' farm, the rook were loafing about. Earlier in the week the pairs were on the grassland today however they were paired up and loafing about on 'artificial trees'. I noticed a couple of single birds, but on closer inspection most rook were sitting tête-à-tête so to speak, simply enjoying the last of the sun on what had been a bright sunny but bitterly cold day. 

I could feel the temperature dropping with the sun and even at this late hour of the day, last night's frost remained gripped in shaded areas. The ground was hard. Difficult foraging conditions even for rook with their dagger like bill. If the ground is frozen even if they can stab through the surface, invertebrates will have retreated further down into the soil avoiding the frozen conditions. Luckily we don't get too many deep penetrating frosts here and the farm has many rhynes and waterways with exposed banks as emergency foraging areas. Just the other side of the farm more rook and jackdaw were arriving at favourite pre-roost trees, framed by the familiar bulk of Crook Peak on the Mendips in the distance.

There was a lot of activity in the countryside though this was of a fleeting and noisy kind. I could hear carrion crow, rook and jackdaw busily contact-calling as they flew to and fro but very few stayed put on the grassland for very long. And that is the time of day. The days foraging will be over and by 4pm in mid-January it is all about preparing for the long night ahead, social calling, interactions and resting before flying to the roost. I walked on, past the chainsaws buzzing at the dew pond, and onto the church in the village. Only two jackdaw there when I arrived, and only one obliging enough for a half decent image.

The sun was starting to set quickly now and I was beginning to feel the cold entering my bones. Cold sunny days have long fascinated me. Many is the time I'd look out of the house at the clear blue skies and think I'll head out for a few hours to watch wildlife. But really to observe wildlife involves being stationary for a long time and, even at these not that cold temperatures, a chill quickly will set in. Time to keep moving and wander back slowly in the hope the jackdaw will entertain me at around 4.30pm 

The low light was fabulous and by a newly installed footbridge I noticed half a dozen winter gnats flying, their delicate bodies picked up by the sun's rays. These probably were the males, buzzing about trying to attract a female, and are commonly seen in the winter months even on cold days as long as there is a nice sheltered area warmed by sunshine. A nice reminder life carries on all year. Other than the gnats and a mallard pair there wasn't much else about.

Further along the lane however a very obliging wren flicked and flitted through one of the lane hedges. I stood for ages watching this diminutive bird calling, each time its whole body would shake and shudder as it ushered that enormous song of theirs.

And while watching the wren, I noticed more rook coming in onto the favourite tree of theirs in the village. Light levels were really starting to fall now with the sky behind me turning a lovely salmon pink and blue colour. A light that signifies a cold night ahead for the wren then.

Those low level dusk hues are a photographer's dream and while this silhouette magpie is not making the most of the colours, I found the sepia background quite pleasing.  However although there were small groups of jackdaw milling about it was already 4.30pm and the main flocks had not materialised. Presumably they've taken a different flightpath today. I carried on walking until a feature I've been observing for a few years caught my eye, again.

If I'm honest, I've no idea what is making these tracks, but they've been here for years.  I'd love this to to be otter as the track goes from the River Banwell next to the barn top right, across the field, under the fence, down the ditch, before they disappear over the lane, before re-emerging opposite, down another ditch and into the river again. A sort of semi-circle from river bank to river bank avoiding the bridge which is mid point. But I'm certain it isn't otter. While otter do cross open areas as a shortcut, and I've seen many such otter tracks before, they would probably use the river or bank itself. And I've never seen spraint by the bridge. 

On closer inspection today there isn't any obvious footprints or tail marks either, in fact there's very little to go on at all.  It could be badger, though I can't find any hair on the fence or through the brambles on the opposite ditch, plus I don't know of a sett around here. Fox is a real possibility as this is very close to where the dead fox I spotted last week was, and there are a lot of foxes around here. Or even, and I wonder about this more and more, cat, as there is a large black cat often in the field hunting. What it needs is a trail-cam to solve the puzzle but as it is in a public area next to a lane I'm not sure the trail-cam would last very long. Food for thought, though thinking this through I'm going for fox without any evidence m'lud. 

In the five minutes I'd spent looking at this animal track I was beginning to get quite chilled. The jackdaw hadn't materialised either, though a number of redwing and long tailed tit were a pleasant diversion. I decided to head home happy in myself that the nature of this area of North Somerset continues to entertain me. Just being out on a cold frosty day is enough to lift the heart.

And then when I was almost home they appeared as if shapeshifters in the gathering dusk. The call came first of course, that jak - jackty- jak as they maintain social bonds in flight. Alerted to their arrival I managed a couple of quick images of groups of maybe a dozen or more birds flying quite high right over me in fairly quick succession. I checked my watch, 4.38pm. Of course, the days are lengthening and sunset is later by around 2 minutes a day now, so their 4.30pm passing the house on Tuesday was eight minutes later today. Lovely to observe as they sped overhead but I still don't know where they go from here. That's for yet another day of watching and waiting. 

I can't wait, but I must remember time of day does make a difference to what is seen in the countryside.

Lunchtime Walk To Check On The Crows

A beautiful day. 

Here in Somerset we had thirty days of rain from the 17th of December until this weekend. It has been truly grim. But all that has finally changed. As with the rest of the country a northerly airflow has developed and ushered in much colder but thankfully brighter weather. Last nights frost was hard but here we've been spared any snowfall. Simply a crisp and beautiful day dawned.

Working from the home office these last two days I've been distracted by the corvid activity hereabouts. Jackdaw continue to use our garden as a flightpath, as they have done for years, flying in the morning and evening at eye level between our bedroom window and the fir tree at the bottom of the garden. I try and grab images of these birds as they noisily shoot by at almost hand-grabbing distance but the result is always a blur. One day, and a faster camera. 

Yesterday at dusk I noticed a jackdaw flock of around 100 birds heading to roost flying over the back field, very low and hedge hopping, presumably a peregrine or other such raptor was hassling out of sight. Safety in numbers for the smaller jackdaw, the larger rooks and carrion crow carried on as normal with their flightpaths at some height in small groups or pairs.

Today though lunch beckoned and I fancied a walk to see what's happening to the rooks up by the village. It is still very early in the breeding season, but I fancied a bit of a reconnaissance before the main event unfolds in February. I had about an hour for lunch and as it is about a half hour walk to the trees I keep an eye on in the village where rooks come each year and rebuild their rookery, I had bags of time. 

Although I live in a modern estate, I overlook unspoilt countryside. It is also very flat around here, we're on the Somerset Moors, on a flat headland jutting out into the Bristol Channel. At around 3 meters above sea level the area is hedges, isolated trees with farming mostly sheep and cattle on permanent grassland. Perfect for corvids and views. The view above is from the Chinese Take-Away not 200 meters from the house - it has to be one of the best such views anywhere while awaiting the prawn crackers, lovely sunsets in the summer. 

The first corvid I spotted was this carrion crow. I still can't work out what it has in its bill (maybe a Chinese cracker), but whatever it was this bird swooped down from a height, grabbed it and was off.

Ebdon Bow is the first place I meet on the walk after about 5 minute, a couple of farms along the banks of the River Banwell. Sometimes along the river you can see a kingfisher or heron. Today though nothing other than a pair of mallard. This is a tidal river and today it was full, the tide was obviously in. On my return journey the levels had dropped and the river ran fast and true back out to sea a mile away. Despite this being mid day it was still cold, frost lay untouched wherever the sun had failed to reach. One sad sight however was a dead fox by the bridge itself. Being the good member I am I reported the sighting to the Mammal Society on their sightings app as a road kill, but as the fox was covered in frost it had been there a while so hard to be 100% sure it was a fatality.  

Turning left at the T junction and past 'Rogers' farm, first view of the village and the first birds. A party of redwing with a few pied wagtail were gorging themselves by some cattle troughs in the field. winter thrushes are always wary, the best image I got was rubbish really. But looking across I could see my quarry in the fields and the trees. And very vocal they were too.

Wick St Lawrence is no more than a hamlet, but I've called it home since 1998. And in all those years I've kept an eye on the rooks and jackdaws. Some years are good, thirty or more rook nests, a raven nest one year, and jackdaw omnipresent.  Some years less so. I fear this year may be a lean year. While on the surface the village looks the same year in year out, there has been a lot of development recently. Trees grubbed out, old buildings converted into homes and just a general tidying up of unsightly areas.

An example of this caught my eye at one of the newer rookery sites on a bend in the lane. Last year there were half a dozen nests here in what it has to be said are not very tall willows. On today's walk, half of those trees have now gone. I'll try and find out what's happening, but this dew-pond which was impenetrable to all but a few moorhen has been opened up. My guess is that now Roger's son has taken over running the farm and converted it from dairy to beef and sheep he's opening it up for drinking water. To be fair it's not a clear fell, with some nice marginal slopes having been scraped out and a willow pollarded (those trees that have been removed looked quite rotten), but for the rooks, they've lost three taller trees leaving just two standing. I think the work has been done well so I'll keep an open mind and see what effect all this has on the overall numbers of rook in the village.

Just beyond this pond work, and nearer the village, the number of rook were increasing in the fields. In taller trees by the village they were loafing about on and around nests. I'd spotted rook on nests in Devon in late December, and again a week later alongside the M5. Whether these birds I watched today have eggs already in the nest I don't know. It is still a little early even for these early nesters. However it's obvious the nests there are substantial and well cared for after the winter winds. 

In the field in front rooks were very much paired up. Courting couples were dotted about, relaxing in the sun and even taking part in a little allopreening to strengthen the pair-bond. I watched a dozen or so rook pairs for a while. Each close to its partner, oblivious to my voyeurism, in beautiful condition too. Such a good sight to see. It's still very much winter so I only hope we don't get strong winds in February and March as we did last year which blew many of the nests out of the trees just at the wrong time.

Just a little way further on I arrived at my destination, a not that large pair of trees which for a decade now have provided the hub of the half a dozen rookeries of Wick St Lawrence. It is an odd place to build a nest site but it must work. Adjacent to a number of houses the tree canopy leans over the road where milk tankers, tractors and daily commuters trundle by. But they seem to like it and as I walked towards them there was a lot of activity from two or three dozen birds both in the tree and flying around.

However when I got to the trees they all flew off leaving just a bare branch landscape. Until November last years nests clung on to the upper branches, wind and rain since then have taken their toll and not a single nest remains. It is like this most years, these trees sway too much in the stronger winds. Come nesting time though a dozen or more nests will festoon these branches. Given the activity in and around the trees I'd expect rebuilding to begin soon, I'll notice when this begins as I drive underneath on my way to work. But for now though, simply a place for Corvus frugilegus to rest and relax in the sunshine.

I'd now been messing about looking at these crows for forty minutes, I was behind schedule and I needed to get back home and back to work. There is always a cross to bear. No time then to go and look at the jackdaw in the church tower. A trio of quick long lens images then of my favourite corvids. I'll return soon and have a proper look at what they're upto, but they are nicely paired up I see.

The return walk was quicker, but not uneventful. A pair of raven shot over me cronking madly, a species that is daily now here. And a great spotted woodpecker made passing use of a GPO telegraph pole as I still think of them. No drumming or calling from him today but a wonderful example of a right place at the right time encounter.

Finally I found myself almost back at the Chinese Take-Away when a small flock of starling made use of a couple of poplars planted decades ago in what had been the farm yard. We don't get the big murmurations of starling here but most winters we'll see at least one flock of 500+ wheeling and zooming over the house en-route to somewhere. 

That ended my walk with a flourish, just over an hour in the end and I have to say, it was not a bad  lunchtime walk at all.