Moored up above Heathy Close lock, at Wootton Rivers, east of Pewsey, we watched a flycatcher dashing out from its perch in a tall ash tree, to grab insects out of the air, then return to its perch, easily identifiable by its upright posture and startlingly big eyes, like the dogs in The Tinderbox. The first time I saw one (flycatcher, not supernatural dog) was on a still and misty autumn morning when it was perched across the canal from me, and it spooked me rather.
In the background is a grey wagtail, about to snaffle a banded demoiselle. And a Southern Hawker dragonfly bumbling by. Our boaty neighbours rescued a pair of these dragonflies from the canal, but they died anyway, and I collected them for reference.
...but they went black shortly after. Too late, I read that their bright colouring is maintained by some sort of active biological process. Keen bughunters do thing like killing them quickly and dropping them in acetone, or other such things that I've neither the resources nor inclination to do.
Anyway, it all makes a good subject for this picture, which will hopefully be one of twelve for next year's calendar if I pull my finger out.
Easily distracted, though; I've been out foraging elderberries, for making cordial. It's very late in the season for them; some trees are completely gone over, and the unpicked clusters of berries are shrivelled and hanging limply. But I found one tree that was still only just past the peak of fruitfulness, and it yielded over 2 lb of berries, which, when boiled up with enough water to cover, and some mace and cloves thrown in, yielded 2 pints of juice. Very cheerful stuff, and good for keeping lurgies at bay.
