Tuesday, 22 April 2008

bloody birds

I got stuck into some serious drawing yesterday; it's time to get the Downs wildlife book sorted out and put to bed. Nearly finished the bird section now.

By mid-afternoon I was seeing spots in front of my eyes and it was time to go out on my bicycle. So I put the Big Lens on the camera, and went searching for the red kite that had been spotted over the Downs on Sunday.

No kite; but I saw lots of swallows. A few flitted by and I got the camera out and scanned the sky watching for their return swoops. No such luck. They all seemed to be heading north, funneling along the Avon gorge and snacking on the insects as they go.

And then I heard a blackcap singing.

So it was a good trip out, even though the nice woman at the post office (I was posting a book to my cousin) suggested that I might be a 'bit of a twitcher'.

O dear, I hope not.


  1. Everyone who doesn't especially care for birds thinks that anyone who enjoys them, and actively goes looking for them is, indeed, a twitcher...

  2. Or a birder, as one of my colleagues insists she is.

    Twitchers, apparently, are the sort of people who collect sightings like train numbers. Birders are just interested in birds.

  3. Not just interested in birds, of course. Interested in other things, too. Y'know what I mean.

  4. A good point, Caroline.

    I understand, SB. They used to call what I like doing "Maying", I suppose.

  5. Thus the Robin and the Thrush,
    Musicke make in every bush.
    While they cham their pretty notes
    Young men hurle up maidens cotes.

    So I read.