Jizz bags out again, but despite the crystal
clear conditions it wasn't even a quarter as good as
yesterday. And it was forking freezing as well, so I quit
early and went home to eat food and get warm.
Meadow Pipit - 5 (south)
Fieldfare - 95 (west)
Redwing - 7 (west)
Starling - 25 (west)
Linnet - 3 (south)
Greenfinch - 1 (west)
Chaffinch - 7 (dunno)
Siskin - 3 (dunno)
Redpoll - 3 (south-ish)
weather: SSW 1-2, 0 cloud, fucking
freezing (penis down to 1/4 of an inch), light frost,
visibility 18 miles+
***
Jizible migration continued on a walk over
Burnt Hill, unfortunately it was only audible migration as we pretty much
couldn't actually see anything passing overhead. 2+ Pinkfeet,
3 Redpolls, 3 Goldfinch(es) and 3 Common Gulls were nearly
all invisible other than the gulls, which weren't invisible,
and were visible, hence the expression visible. Also an
absolute minimum count of 127,948 Red Grouse, or twenty-five
as you may call it.
Nice! Monk's Road runs right above Glossop and gives the
best view in the area over the two valleys, so it's probably
as good as any place locally for viz-migging, or jazz-magging
as some people call it, well, probably only me. Viz-migging
is like seawatching but without the birds, sense of
adventure or fun; jazz-magging is what I used to do at my
formative local birdspotting patch of Hartshill Park in
Stoke, where the birding was so dire that I spent most of my
time crawling under hedges looking for stashed porn mags. On
one memorable day I struck gold and found an old leather
brown suitcase filled with porn (including a copy of Forty
Plus and the ubiquitous Razzle), and even a rubber
prosthetic penis that I took to school the next day and
surreptitiously left out on the desk at the end of an RE
lesson for Mrs Smith to find (true story!). Finding that
stash was probably the single best day's birding I've ever
had.
From dawn till 9am this morning - despite the
lack of discarded rhythm pamphlets - it was truly sweet, with viz-migging, jazz-magging and jizz-bagging in full swing. A
constant east-west flow of groups of Fieldfare, but a weird lack
of Redwings and only small numbers of Woodpigeon.
B-h.Gull - 8 (south)
LB-b.Gull - 4 (west)
Woodpigeon - 200 (all west)
Skylark - 1 (invisible)
Meadow Pipit - 4 (south)
Pied Wagtail - 4 (south)
Fieldfare - 770 (all west)
Redwing - 22 (all west)
Linnet - 5 (invisible)
Brambling - 3 (south)
Chaffinch - 13 (south)
Redpoll - 2 (east, perhaps local
birdies then)
Siskin - 5 (invisible)
weather: S 0-1, 100% cloud, cool (penis
not shrunk too badly), light mist low in valley, visibility
c15 miles
"Tongue me
out!" You've gotta love cheap British petrol station porn!
Overnight seemed to be nice and clear, so I thought I'd
get some vizzzzzzz-migging in. The walk in the dark
confirmed that it was indeed clear, and a few Redwing coming
over heading west got me a bit excited, as did a Tawny Owl
yelling at me. I climbed the hill by Mossy Lea and then
waited for the sun to rise and the mega Peak District
viz-mig fest to begin. In typical Glossop fashion the sun
was then obscured as the whole of Mossy Lea and the Shire
Hill area suddenly became swamped in thick fog, and
viz-migging turned out to be not all that good, so these
meagre pickings were by ear only. Still, you know, I think.
Meadow Pipit - 20
Pied Wagtail - 2
Brambling - 2+
Chaffinch - 1
Also in the area an invisible Raven, invisible
Buzzard and calababillions of invisible Red Grouse(s). Then
local birding guru and all round top bloke Bill Underwood
phoned and asked if I'd like to go out with him for the day.
So I did, but unfortunately I can't tell you anything about
it because it's all top secret.
13th October, Good Spam & Good Pies
I've been getting a lot of entertaining spam of late, but
I reckon this one is just about my favourite. I'd get angry if they weren't so fucking stupid.
Dearest In Christ,
Please use this money for the churches and less privileged.
Greetings to you and your family in the name of God. In my
search for a reliable and God fearing person and having
gotten your contact through prayers and pain staking efforts
I have decided to seek your help in carrying out my last
wishes. My name is Mrs. Anabella Estes. I'm over 60 years
old woman and from London . I was a merchant and owned two
businesses in London. I was also married with two children.
My husband and two children died in a car accident six years
ago. Before this happened, my business and concern for
making money was all I live for. I never really cared about
other values in life. But since the loss of my family, I
have found a new desire to assist helpless families. I have
been helping orphans in orphanage/motherless homes. I have
also donated some money for humanitarian needs in London, South Africa, Cameroon, Brazil, Spain, Austria, Germany
and some Asian countries. Only recently I saw on television
the colossal loss of properties and livelihood people in
Canberra , Australia through fire.
I was moving with great pity and compassion that I decided
to make this contribution on assisting people over there, I
kept $US15,000,000.00 Fifteen Million Dollars in a
long-term deposit account in a Finance company. Presently,
I'm in a hospital where I have been undergoing
treatment for esophagi cancer. I have since lost my ability
to talk and my doctors have told me that I have only
few months to live. It is my last wish to see this money
distributed to victims of the fire outbreak in Australia and
other charity organization. Because relatives and friends
have plundered so much of my wealth since my illness, I
cannot live with the agony entrusting this huge
responsibility to any of them.
Please, I beg you in the name of God to help me collect the
deposit and distribute it accordingly. Use your judgment to
distribute the money and keep 40% of it to yourself. Feel
free to reimburse yourself when you have the money for any
cost you incure during the process of collecting and
distributing the money. If you are willing to help, please
reply as soon as possible. May the good lord bless you and
your family.
Please, send reply and all correspondences to my attorney:
Mr Mckee Adam
***
And finally a new blog that explores those well
established links between eating pies and watching birds:
Ooooooooooooh, yeah, ooooooooooooooh, me feelin' so hot now.
Baby, baby, yeah, yeah.
A Firecrest by the wildlife centre. A Firecrest, I mean, now that's almost a decent
bird. Woooo! Yeah! For any local birdspotters reading this,
it was in a big conifer just by the picnic benches by the
migration sign posts at about 5.30pm. The best way to entice
it out is with a saucer of jam - Firecrests absolutely love
jam.
Hot to touch, baby can you feel me now?
I'm feelin' hot to touch.
And now I know you and me are gonna make it girl,
Because me feelin' so hot - hot to touch!
After the shock horror of discovering that
the Brown Flycatcher at Flamborough had done an overnight
bunk (baaaaaaaaaaastaaaaaaaaaaaard), I decided to quit
twitchering forever and concentrate on the birds on my
doorstep - rare birds indeed, what a waste of time!
Bottoms Reservoir was calling, so
I went, and then I left, extremely disappointed only
having seen 70 Black-headed Gulls, 2 flyover Redpolls, a
smattering of Siskin and a few Jays.
Next was Shire Hill, and 3
(Common) Buzzards were a Glossop first. Loveliness then
followed with a Little Owl, Dipper and yet another local first
in the form of 6 Red-legged Partridges, and then I stepped
in dog shit.
Finally the walk to Bleaklow confirmed what
I've been thinking all along - there aren't very many birds
on Bleaklow at this time of year (any time of year?). But I
did find Hern Clough, which for those of you that read
British Birds (can any of you even read? Mind you, that
doesn't make sense, otherwise you wouldn't be able to read
this right now, or maybe you're not reading it. Maybe you're
just staring at the monitor and pretending to read it. Ha!
In which case I could say absolutely anything and you
wouldn't even know. Something like "I am Idi Amin,"
or "I am Harold Shipman reincarnated," or "I had
sexual relations with Hilary Clinton and then wiped my knob
on the White House bedroom curtains" etc...) will
smack...
... actually, that bit in brackets was way
too long, so I'll start the sentence again...
But I did find Hern Clough, which for those
of you that read British Birds will smack you straight in
the face and remind you of the paper in August 2007 about
the older history of the White-tailed Eagle in Britain,
which was coincidentally titled The Older History of the
White-tailed Eagle in Britain. Hern Clough was mentioned in the paper as being a ye olde site for breeding
White-tailed Eagles (hern = earn = eagle
in ye olde English), but sadly there were no White-tailed
Herns there tonight.
3rd-4th October, Butt Raped
(violently)
It's taken me nearly a whole week
to find the strength to write this, because unless you've
been living on the Moon, then you will of course know that
on the 3rd and 4th of October Britain was graced by a visit
from our first undeniably wild Brown Flycatcher. No doubt
some of you will have indeed enjoyed watching it at Flamborough in the Old Fall plantation last week.
For me, well, let's just say that
life is now obsolete. I'm not coming to terms with things
very well at all, I'd say that nearly a week on I'm just
about comfortably numb.
There are birders who are sure all that
hovers is gold
And they’re watching a Brown Fly at Flamborough.
And when they get there they know if the car parks are
closed
With a donation they can get what they came for.
And they’re watching a Brown Fly at Flamborough.
There's a bird in the hedge but they
want to be sure
Because you can’t tick things unless you properly see them.
In a tree by the brook there's a songbird who sings,
Sometimes all our IDs are misgiven .
It makes me wonder.
There's a feeling I get when
I look to the pager
And my spirit is crying for Flamborough.
In my thoughts I have seen hordes of scopes through the
trees
And the voices of birders who stand looking.
Really makes me wonder.
And it's whispered that soon if we all
pish the tune
Then the pager will lead us to Flamborough.
And a new day will dawn for those who stand long
And Old Fall will echo with my laughter.
And it makes me wonder.
If there's a bustle in your hedgerow
Don't be alarmed now.
It’s just a Brown Fly being chased by 1,600 rare bird
enthusiasts.
