The Barn Owl

Twas the night of Hallow's Eve,
A time of fear and fright.
And out there over darkened fields,
Is a ghost that haunts the night.

As towns begin to bustle,
Costumed revellers take to the street.
But in the sticks there is no sound,
'part from the phantom's shriek.

The temperature begins to plummet,
The stars light up the skies.
But out there shrunk in hedgerow deep,
A creature fears for his demise.

To be seen is to face certain death,
Its a dangerous game to play.
Best to keep head down and hide,
If he's to see another day.

The phantom roams the midnight air,
Looking to claim another soul.
A face of brightest white they say,
And eyes like blackened coal.

It is said you cannot hear it,
Don't see till it's too late.
The only time its presence dawns,
Is when delivering you your fate. 

Pellets, Packham and a Return to Ringing

As I sit writing this, I can still smell the stench of broken open owl pellet that's burned into my nose. Yes after only two days at home I'm already breaking open packaged owl sick in my mum's kitchen.

But she's at work so shhhh... She doesn't have to know. 

Tawny chicks being they're usual laid back selves.

I was given the pellet by a friend (I have those kind of friends) from some of the many she finds whilst walking the local wood that sustains a healthy population of Tawny Owls that I have had the fortune to be able to ring.

Speaking of ringing, yesterday morning gave me the chance to get back out for the first time since January. And what a morning it was! We were at the same wood as the Tawny's (and could hear one at one point), ringing at a feeding station. We got an astonishing 85 birds in total with some of the highlights including two Treecreeper, 5 Nuthatch and a Great Spotted Woodpecker.

The woodpeckers had been drumming all morning and if we hadn't been as busy then I would have been tempted to try the old "hitting a tree with stones" trick to lure them in for a closer look. However it would have probably resulted in me looking like an idiot when I was completely ignored.

The wood has been rung consistently for years and this gives us great information on the lifespans and movements of the birds within the area. There was yet more evidence of how poor last years breeding season had been for the tit species, with almost all of them caught being older that last summer. Fingers crossed for a better season this year.

I also had the pleasure of seeing Chris Packham giving his talk on Saturday night. He was brilliant.

Oh and I also made a YouTube video of the owl pellet dissection if you'd care to have a peek:  http://youtu.be/bX_VQkqZHCc

Below are some of the things I found in the pellet. Nothing extraordinary apart from the scaled skin at the bottom which I'm still miffed by. If its a reptile then I can only think it would be a Grass Snake.

A small bone

Another bone

A third bone

Oh look! A bone...

Some hair

The scaled skin. The hair on it isn't attached, it was just sat on there.

Breaking Smews!

..... Or so was the title when I actually wrote it.

 

Y'see now a week and a half has past since I wrote that title and saved this blog post to draft that I intended to finish the next day.

 

Since then my laptop broke and I've since ordered a new one. To be fair I was due a new one. I'd had my netbook for 4 years and it had got so full of stuff that it's speed was like that of a Giant Redwood in a 100metre sprint. And in the world of computers (where anything over 94 milliseconds is compared old) my computer looked like it had been dug up from a Neolithic archaeological excavation.

 

But enough about that. Back to the birds. And more importantly news about Smews. Yes you may think that I'm running these Smew gags into the ground but I don't know when I'll get the chance again. And it's my blog so I'll do what I want.

 

So anyway. The weekend after last I was back at Harewood and had taken my binoculars in the hope of getting a better view of the pair. And wouldn't Smew believe it, they were both there! I got some cracking views of the male diving with a male Goldeneye. It was like finding a Strawberry Crème and an Orange Crème in the Roses box in amongst all the wrappers and nuts. Absolutely brilliant stuff.

 

As I had no chance of taking a picture of a Smew half way across a lake I tried to take a picture of Red Kites circling half way up in the air. Similar results.

 

I'm back off home at the weekend for Easter where bird ringing and watching shall commence with a vengeance.

 

And hopefully we have no more technical (me dropping my laptop on the floor) difficulties. But I'm sure everything will be fine.

 

You could even say I'm confident everything will run Smewthly.

 

 

I'll stop now.



Good Smews Everyone!

As the cold begins to move away I am pleased to announce that I have at last bagged a golden winter bird. The A list of the winter visitors. Perhaps, as some may argue, the very pinnacle. Ladies and Gentlemen, from the jaws of winter's hasty retreat I give you... the Smew.

Or I would if I had a decent camera to take photos with.

Instead there's a picture of the cutting edge ornithological optics that I was using to scope out my first EVER views of this stunning bird. After spotting the male on the lake I then scanned with the telescope. The grainy, blurred view made it look as though I was doing an opticians test, where instead of looking at letters on a board I was looking at birds on a lake. And I was failing.

That was until I relocated the stunning drake (male) practically shimmering in the sunlight. Even looking through a telescope made of bathroom glass, the bird was sublime. I got  more views throughout the day with the naked eye as both he and the red headed female (who remained much closer to our side of the lake) were present all day, swimming around with tufted ducks and the four Goldeneye that were present.

They're winter visitors from Russia and Scandinavia, a small duck (about the size of a little grebe) that dives frequently. But when you see the male, my word do you see the male. An absolutely dazzling bird of brilliant white accentuated by a black mask, back and stripes. It's certainly one of the most incredible birds I've ever seen, even through a 20 year old, weather beaten telescope.

While at Harewood I was told about a Mistle Thrush that nested in traffic lights by the bus station every year and was already on the nest again this year. After staying on the bus one extra stop I got off to have a look. Sure enough there she was, sat tight on the nest in the amber light (you can just see a twig pointing right). There were people passing underneath all the time and no one seemed to notice she was there. I couldn't even begin to work out how the chicks would fare when they fledged as its surrounded by busy roads and pedestrians on all sides. They're going to have to be some very street wise Mistle Thrushes

I hung around a bit to watch for any activity and to try and catch a picture of her when the light turned yellow. After unsuccessful attempts and weird looks from passers by wondering why I was taking pictures of a traffic light, I gave up.

And finally, after going to a great extent to describe a male Smew and then not having a picture (think of it as homework) and my shameful attempt at the Mistle Thrush in a traffic light, I thought I better show an actual bird. 

This is Cassidy, a Rainbow Lorikeet at Harewood House during her afternoon nectar top up. And I think we can all agree on one thing - 

What a belter she is.