Birds in the Rain

It has poured with rain for two whole days, although it has now stopped and a watery sun has come out. Yesterday we had planned to go round looking at the entries for the garden competition, and we did, but it get wetter and wetter as the day went on. It's always interesting to look at other people's gardens, but these were something else. One thing I noticed was that for the first time every single one had bird feeders of some description somewhere. In one particular garden a robin sat on the fence and scolded us until we moved far enough away from the bird table for him to feel safe to eat - only about three feet away.

This morning I managed to grab an hour of just slight drizzle to take the dog down to the creek. The tide was out and there were three egrets scuffling away happily in the mud. Just as I was thinking to myself how unusual it was to see more than one - they are quite aggressive and territorial as a general rule - and reminding myself that actually this time of year it does happen once or twice as the young ones leave the nest, one of them noticed that his space was being invaded and set about one of his competitors, squawking loudly and raucously and harassing the poor bird until it moved away. Not all that far, not out of the creek, but far enough...

There was a new bird on my garden bird feeder this afternoon - a juvenile starling. I'm not sure where it came from as we rarely see starlings round here, but it came in for a speculative taste of the soggy bread.

Can you hear me now?

Yesterday morning, only a matter of seven weeks since I first asked our GP to refer him to the hospital and two weeks since his hearing test, Ron was fitted with his hearing aids.

The programming took an hour and looked quite complicated - but was all done on a computer screen, without even having to ask him how sounds felt/sounded. Against the audiologist's advice (he said get used to them gradually) Ron insisted on wearing them home on the bus, and was fascinated that he could hear the engine accelerating and the gears engaging. By the time we got home, though, he had had enough and had to have them out and go for a lie down.

I am very impressed with the speed and efficiency of this service. All that remains now is for him to actually use them; I know several of his contemporaries who either don't wear them at all or only in selected circumstances. I know he's going to find it difficult to get used to them, but for my sake as well as his I hope he perseveres.

Sofa Saga

About a week ago one of my neighbours asked me for help to get rid of an old sofa. She didn't want it any more as she was changing her colour scheme and it didn't go. I waffled on knowledgably about Freecycle for a while before asking her what it was like - 7ft long, terracotta soft leather, perfect condition, and she had tried to sell it but no one wanted it, so she just wanted rid because she was having a laminated floor fitted and had ordered a new sofa to go with her new lilac curtains and photo frames. I thought it sounded rather nice, went to have a look, and offered to give it a home myself, purely out of the goodness of my heart, you understand. That fact that the colour exactly picks up the detail in the wallpaper, our old sofa is knackered and too small, and we had recently acquired a dark brown leather big armchair was all totally irrelevant...

The only and obvious problem was in the size of it. Phyllis lives in an identical flat to ours but the ground floor version. Her grandson, who had put it in for her in the first place, was quite confident about getting it back out again, but would it go in our front door, round the twisty stairs and through the living room door, unhelpfully not quite opposite the top of the stairs but down a narrow passageway? He said it would, Ron thought it wouldn't, I only hoped, as I can't even offer advice at the moment, let alone lift furniture.

So last night the grandson and friend turned up, took it out of Phylis's and four doors along to us. Ron had taken the banisters down on one side of the stairs and they got it up to the first floor quite easily, the only casualty being a dangly light fitting that came away but isn't broken, and with a lot of grunting and groaning got it solidly wedged in the living room door frame. It was almost there, but it wouldn't go. Not turning it round and trying it backwards, tilting this way, tilting that, no way was it going through. By this time Ron was threatening to redesign the door frame with a saw and a big hammer, but they finally succeeded after taking the door off its hinges and removing some draughtproofing from round the inside of the frame. It just fits, looks lovely - and will have to be covered up except when we have visitors because that is an easier option than retraining the dog!

Of course, we still have to take the old one away, which is scheduled for this evening, mend the hall light and replace the door and banisters. Or do we? The door has always been wedged open, but opened into the room, so there were things hidden behind it. With it not there the room seems much bigger, somehow. Maybe not, then...

Bone Scan

Back to Derriford again this afternoon to the medical physics department, located down in the dungeon, for a bone density scan. Actually it was quite a pleasant experience - on time, nice people, good explanations, no pain. No results either, at least not for a couple of weeks.

They were very thorough. The information I'd seen on the internet said that it would be on a wrist, but in fact there were four scans, on the spine, left hip, right hip and wrist. The biggest problem was the questionnaire they gave me to fill in first - I did it, but I wasn't convinced they would be able to read it. I think my lefthanded writing would be much better if I could do it from right to left across the page. I understand now why lefthanded people have so many problems; I can't even hold the paper down properly.

More Signs of Autumn

I walked through the valley from Hessenford to Seaton this afternoon in the beautiful summer weather and found myself crunching through a thick layer of dry discarded sycamore leaves. Since last week, when I noticed some brown spotted leaves on some of the trees, we have a situation where many of the trees are already bare. Is it just that they think it's almost winter, or is something else? It's only the sycamores, luckily, not any of the other trees, but it's still very odd.

The beach at Seaton has been cleaned up a bit, although there are still a few piles of rotting kelp here and there, and there were lots of people on the beach - even some in the water, although most of them were wearing wet suits. We had a pleasant couple of hours sitting on the terrace at Downderry and just watching the world go by.

First Blackberry Crop

Not me, but one of my neighbours, out down the lane with a plastic bowl this morning, collecting quite enough for a blackberry and apple crumble. There still aren't too many, but more are ripening each day. The rowan berries are ripe now as well. Apparently they make a good jelly, but I've never tried it.

Now that summer appears finally to have arrived, it seems that we are already into autumn harvest...

Mowing at Churchtown

A better sort of day, today; sunny and breezy and bright. The visibility is so good that from the top of the hill, on the way to Churchtown, I could see right across Dartmoor in one direction and across Bodmin Moor in the other! They were mowing the meadows at Churchtown, and there were lots of swallows wheeling about above the tractor catching the disturbed insects. In one of the other fields I tried to work out from the height of the swallows what the weather was going to be like, but they were flying very high and swooping down almost to the grass, so it is obviously going to be a bit mixed. I got my first horsefly bite of the season - on my left elbow, where I couldn't even swat it away. Actually I did attempt to swat it - an automatic reaction - but quickly remembered why I couldn't.

A Boring Day

It's a dull, drizzly sort of day, and I'm in a dull, drizzly sort of mood. The sycamores in the coombe have now got dry, crinkly, dying leaves like the ones in Seaton Valley - it affects the young saplings first, then the more mature trees. It surely can't be drought, not this year, but I can't find any clue on the internet as to what it can be. It's not tar spot, because the leaves would look normal round the spots. These start with brown spots, then the whole leaf goes brownish, dry and dead.

The species count for my bird feeders is now in double figures. Apart from the sparrows, there are also now regular visits from goldfinch, greenfinch and chaffinch, blue tit and great tit, blackbird, magpie, jackdaw, collared dove and wood pigeon. I filled up late this morning, after I took Ty down the coombe to the creek and back, and from there being no birds in sight there were thirteen sparrows and a young blackbird by the time I had got back to the kitchen and looked out of the window.

Earlier today I had just neatly folded (one handed) 92 notices for the meeting next Tuesday, at which a director of the bus company was due to explain how they had improved our local services by taking most of them away and was about to go and put them through 92 local letterboxes when I had a phone call from the neighbour who had arranged the meeting. Apparently the nice bus company director can't come and play after all. He's given us another date, at the end of August, but somehow I am not convinced. At least I hadn't actually delivered all the flyers, so I only needed to put a 'postponed' notice in the noticeboard by the bus stop.

Will he or won't he actually turn up? Watch this space...

The Magpie and the Peanut Feeder

I had seen the magpie standing on the edge of the water bowl and stabbing ineffectually at the peanut feeder with its big beak a couple of times. It has now refined the technique and is getting peanuts, although it seems to me a great deal of effort for very little reward. This is how it works: it perches at the edge of the waterbowl from where the peanut feeder, one of those cheap ones with a clear plastic mesh, is only just in reach. The beak is way too big to go in through the holes, so it uses its tongue to manoeuvre half a peanut end on to the mesh so that it just pokes through, then pulls it the rest of the way out with its beak. It then drops the bit of peanut in the water and picks it up from there to eat. I watched for at least twenty minutes, during which time it got three morsels of peanut, then flew off. I suppose I could be nice and put whole peanuts on the tray for it to pick up, but I don't like the idea of sparrows, for example, trying to force a whole nut down a baby's throat, and anyway I admire a bird which shows enterprise and is prepared to put some effort in for a treat.

Yesterday's seeds? Goosegrass. I remembered that I had leaned over a wall to pick up a dead umbrella for consignment to the litter bin, and that's where I got them. I checked later and there are plenty more...

Mystery Solved?

I have given considerable thought to the identity of yesterday's mystery bird, and come to the rather boring conclusion that it was a juvenile blackbird which was, for some reason, trying to persuade me to feed it. The head bobbing is, of course, typical of begging behaviour; the noise I don't know because I've never consciously heard blackbirds begging before. The size and shape are about right, and the colouring as well, probably, bearing in mind that I was quite deep in the woods in the valley. Mystery solved, I think.

I took Ty down to the creek this morning and watched young crows being given a feeding lesson, stomping about in the mud and seaweed and occasionally begging for bits. There is an adult crow I see quite often down there who dunks his food in the stream before eating, and I wonder whether this sort of behaviour is learned by individuals or passed on by example from parents to young. I'm sure not all crows do this.

I wasn't aware of hacking my way through undergrowth, but when I got home I discovered that the front of my coat (one of those woolly lined flannelette 'lumberjack' shirts that used to be so popular before the invention of fleeces) was covered in hundreds of round brown seeds, not so much sticky as clingy. Not sure what they had come from, but the dog didn't have any so it was obviously something quite high growing. I'll look out for them tomorrow and see if I can identify the plant.

Mystery bird

I managed a proper walk from Hessenford to Downderry today. And saw a mystery bird which I am unable to identify. I heard it first, making a loud PRRRRRRRP sound, then turned round and saw it on a branch just behind me, clearly PRRRRRRRPing in my direction. About the size of a thin blackbird it was, with a dark reddish brown front, from chin level right down to the belly. The rest seemed blackish, but as I only saw it from directly front on I can't be sure. Long narrow tail held upright. It ducked its head forwards and down to PRRRRRRRP, then lifted it up again.

I've just spent - indeed am still spending - an hour or so listening to CDs of birdsong, looking in my reference books, and can find nothing resembling it. Which is quite annoying.

It was nice in the woods and not too muddy, in spite of the recent heavy rains. The sycamores in the valley seem to have some sort of disease with their leaves all curling up and brown. None of that in the coombe, so far anyway, although I have seen it there in previous years.

Ty did his usual trick under the bridge of swimming half way across, suddenly being swept away by the current ('bark, bark' 'help, help') going round the corner then getting out and doing it again, waiting for some innocent walker to leap in and save him. I let him do it about ten times today before I called him out of the water; he would have been happy to stay there all day.

In the waterlily pond I saw two moorhens with chicks - one with one, the other with two. And still only the one mallard duckling. I don't understand why there are so few this year. One of my friends thinks that someone has been feeding the Seaton ducks with contraceptive spiked food all winter. I find that hard to believe, but there has to be some explanation for the almost total absence of ducklings. In normal years there are hundreds of them this time of year.

Anyway the local pub has now reopened under new ownership, with posh terrace furniture and even posher food. We had a couple of very pleasant drinks on the terrace, but opted for a Chinese takeaway on the way home.

(This has been typed in ten finger typing, with the splint off. It gets easier as the fingers get used to it and unstiffen, but this is enough and I shall put the splint back on again now. I've done my exercises...)

Swifts

Down to the creek this morning and the tide was out but the air was full of movement. Swifts, about twenty of them, chasing and whirling in and out and over the arches of the railway viaduct, squealing with delight and being sqawked at in return by the blackheaded gulls on the mud.

It's not a sight I see often down there - once a year or so, I suppose - although I remember last year seeing a group of them flying rings round the swallows up at Churchtown. Surely it can't already be time for them to be gathering themselves together ready to leave? Well, yes, it may be. They'll be gone within the next three weeks or so, anyway. I just hope I get the opportunity to admire their aerobatics again before then.

Clever Magpie!

I've just spent an hour watching the birds' breakfast bar, drinking tea and making plans for some one-handed housework (later, much later...)

First came the sparrows, of course, up to ten of them at a time vying for the four feeding positions at the seed feeders. There must be a relationship between colouring and competitiveness, as the more brightly coloured the males are the more aggressive they are at the feeders - but also it seems they more likely they are to have fledglings to feed and the more conscientiously they provide for them. As well as the sparrows there were blue tits and great tits, four of the former and two of the latter, a young blackbird who stopped for a rest with a beak full of brown slug, a brown blackbird with a bright orange beak - what sex would that be? - and a collared dove who inspected the crumb tray (empty till I get dressed) and flew off in disgust.

A magpie landed heavily on the crumb tray, scattering all the little ones. It looked carefully for crumbs, but there were none. Yesterday I watched a magpie perch on the crumb tray and try very hard to get its big beak into the peanut feeder, but today that was ignored. Something was going on, however. The hebe through which the feeder pole emerges was being given the serious cocked head and beady eye treatment. It was cautiously landed on and found to give way rather more than was comfortable. Back to the crumb tray for another think. By then I had spotted the prize - a largish lump of brown bread (in my defence, it's not easy crumbling crusts one handed) about four inches down from the top and six inches in from the side of the bush.

A second attempt, clinging on and hanging almost upside down - success! Well done, I thought. You worked hard for that bit of brekkie. It didn't take the bread away, however, but put it down on the crumb tray and tore it into smaller chunks to eat it, only leaving when it was all consumed. I am assuming that given the recent sogginess of the weather it was sufficiently moist not to require dipping in the water bowl before eating, something I have seen them do in the past.

The weather may be picking up a bit. There are some spectacular clouds but the sun is currently trying to blast a way through. Time to take Ty down to the creek, I think.

Unplastered

Today was my first visit to the fracture clinic since the operation. It started none too well, as I had decided to go by bus, which meant that I arrived five minutes late for my 2.55 pm appointment. When I apologised, the receptionist was all smiles. 'Not to worry, we've started late today anyway.' Not really kidding, she wasn't - it was ten past four when I was called in to the plaster room. All went well from then, though. The plaster and bandage dressing was removed, the wound and repair declared satisfactory, and I was sent home in a small splint the same as the one Judith wears for aquacise.

There's not just a plate across the wrist, that's just the top of a T shape which goes quite a long way down the front of my arm. It looks quite impressive on the x-ray. It feels much better, much more comfortable, although I've been given exercises to do which aren't altogether pain free at the moment. And if all goes well I don't have to go back for four weeks. I'm to be sensible, of course - no lifting, no doing too much, no driving. I've just checked, and typing's out, too, except for middle finger, which will peck a bit. Still, I'm sure it will come in time.

I saw my friend from the bed opposite, too. She was in having her cast removed and replaced with a lighter one, and looked very well, although she's still not able to put her foot on the ground.

I jumped on a bus into the city centre, as I was so close. Not that the bus went straight there, of course. It wandered all over the place, in and out of Asda, in and out of Marsh Mills retail park, and finally crunched into the back of a green car, luckily for me right outside the back door of Primark, my chosen destination. I left the drivers arguing and got Ron's new trackies, then on to my third bus of the day and home in time for tea. Wonderful, these new bus passes. Before, I could have done Derriford and back, or the city centre and back, but not the round trip.

Update Update!

I've just come back from taking the dog down the coombe to the creek and back (that mistle thrush was still singing) and looked out of the window to see my first great tit on the peanuts, and a wood pigeon scoffing this morning's crumb ration. Plus half a dozen sparrows, of course. There was a bang which probably wasn't a gunshot, and the entire bird population vanished from sight...

Bird Feeder Update

When it finally stopped raining about 8 pm last night I put out a tray of brown breadcrumbs and topped up the seed feeders, although it didn't look as if they had been used at all during the day.
By the time I had got back inside and looked out of the kitchen window a collared dove had commandeered the crumb tray, and methodically scoffed the lot! It even cleaned up the bits it had accidentally knocked on to the hebe under the feeder before departing.

As the evening cleared up - a bit of watery sun appeared low on the horizon - lots of collared doves started calling, and the goldfinches called each other together into a small flock before taking off somewhere. One particular goldfinch has selected as his song perch a TV aerial immediately opposite my office window - they are surprisingly loud. Well named, too; when they are in a flock their conversation sounds like someone rattling a gold charm bracelet.

I got up earlier than usual this morning and was rewarded by a family of blue tits at my bird feeder, the first I have seen actually in the garden. When I first looked there was one juvenile perched on top of the feeder watching the usual sparrow breakfast squabble. It had a tentative peck at the peanuts then skittered off into the silver birch just outside my fence, where I could see there were more blue tits. It obviously gave my feeder a good report, because two adults ad three juveniles all descended at once, testing the peanuts and the seeds. Oddly, when the sparrows saw all the excitement with the peanuts one of them had a good go too; normally they ignore them altogether.

The rain seems to have gone, although the sun which was shining straight into my eyes an hour ago has gone too behind a curtain of grey. Rain or no rain, the season marches inexorably on; last Monday I saw three black blackberries (possibly not properly ripe, but black anyway), one each on three different bushes at the edge of the coombe. Yesterday, in the rain, there were a dozen or so, almost one on every bush.

Deaf as a Post - but not for long

It has long been Ron's contention that I mumble - and long been mine that he's deaf. Many years ago in Spain he had his hearing checked, with the conclusion that although he was missing the top and bottom tones he had enough left in the middle to get by on. And so he has struggled on; with what he calls 'tin-ear', blighting the TV screen with subtitles, switching off on social occasions. One of his reasons for not getting anything done about it was a belief that hearing aids were either very expensive if purchased privately or involved a very long wait if pursued through the NHS.

Long wait or not, I decided something must be done and asked our GP about a hearing test. This was exactly five weeks ago. Today we had a trip to Derriford's Audiology Department and after a fascinating hi-tech test session he has had moulds taken of both ears and aids will be forthcoming in the very near future. Not a long wait at all - and it was quite a pleasant experience.

There is one slight worry; the Doctor was unhappy with his right ear as there appears to be another problem. He showed us on the graph that it was very different from the left, and two points which should have been close together were almost a page away. A 35 decibel difference, he said, which was very comprehensible! Anyway, he is passing this on to his colleagues in ENT so they can investigate further. In the meantime, I shall be much more laid back about subtitles and overloud music, knowing that it may not last too long.

The Big Rain

It's July, and it's raining. After several days of showers and high winds, today has been unrelenting. It was pouring with rain when I woke in the night, it was heavier when I got up, and it is still doing it now. It makes me feel even more uncapacitated - wriggling into a suntop and shorts or trackies, slipping on sandals, fairly easy one-handed - waterproofs take a lot longer and require assistance. I haven't seen a sparrow in the garden all day, nor heard any birds in the woods, with one exception; there was a thrush singing its heart out when I took the dog out around lunchtime, its voice soaring majestically over the swollen stream and making me aware once more that there really ARE things to be grateful for in this life.

As I write this at 7.30pm the rain has diminished to a drizzle and there are collared doves calling... perhaps the sun will return some time.

Grey Wagtails update

Down at the creek this morning I saw both grey wagtail adults and two fledglings, all happily pottering about in the mud and chattering to each other. The babies weren't begging at all, but seemed quite happy foraging for themselves. I had another collie and owner with me, and the birds were quite happy to ignore not just the humans standing still admiring them but also the dogs bounding about and splashing quite close.

I wonder who was responsible for the naming of wagtails? Why should it be that pied wagtails are grey, grey wagtails are yellow and yellow wagtails are, well, just a bit yellower?

Talking of yellow birds, there were two greenfinches in my garden yesterday evening. One adult male and one juvenile - not begging, just quietly confident with the seed feeders and the peanuts. It makes me happy to see adults bringing their young to my tiny garden patch; perhaps we will get a greater variety in the future...

Grey Wagtail Family

A pair of grey wagtails have been nesting just where the road crosses the stream at the top of the creek. It's never struck me as a particularly ideal spot, as a couple of waste water pipes join the stream just under the bridge and it's occasionally a bit soapy, but it's close to the mud and there's plenty of cover. I've been watching for signs of babies, and today I saw a fledgling sitting on a brick in the middle of the stream being fed. Although the tail is much shorter, it bobs just as enthusiastically as the adult, combining this with the usual wing fluttering and open mouthed crouching. Seems pretty effective...

There's been a new sparrow explosion in my back garden, too. Once more every adult seems to have a fledgling at each shoulder. I wonder why there seem to be far more males feeding fledglings than females?

Do You Need an Appointment?

My Ron's hearing has been deteriorating for years, and I have finally managed to persuade him to have it looked at. Last time it was checked, back about 15 years ago, he had lost all the high and low tones. but could just about get by on what was left.

The system for a hearing test is simple; see the GP, ask for a referral, get an appointment at the audiology department. The system for getting an appointment is a little more complicated, however. First we had a letter asking him to phone for an appointment. I did that, fixed a date, put it in the diary. Job sorted. Ha! Since then we have had confirmation letter. This confirmed his appointment and gave him some instructions on seeing the practice nurse and getting his ears cleared of wax before visiting the audiology dept. Fair enough, although I would have done that as an insert with the 'call for an appointment' letter. Job done? Apparently not. We had an automatic phone call this evening, requiring him (if he WAS him) to press 1 to confirm his identity, enter his DOB in six digits to prove it, press 1 again to confirm that he was going to be there next week. Job done? Let's hope so, this time...

The Kindness of Strangers

They are kind, strangers, as a general rule, although I somehow never quite expect them to be. And they have stranger stories than you expect, too.

A fellow dog walking acquaintance today loaned me an ingenious one handed folding knife and fork combo which will enable me to go out and eat in public with my broken wing, if I want to. I had noticed, but never speculated on, the fact that her right arm is held at an awkward angle and doesn't seem to be used much - it turns out that she had a stroke at age 15 and had to learn to use her left hand for everything. The eating implement she remembers as the best and most liberating present she ever received, and she has used them ever since. Not having to rely on others to cut up one's food is important!

I haven't used it yet, as Ron prepared an easy-eat chicken soup tonight. He is being very good. I shall have to practice eating with the implement before I take it out in public as it is apparently quite tricky to use without cutting or spiking oneself.

Swallows in the Shed

Back in May, I was in Downderry in workshop in a field one sunny afternoon when suddenly the building was descended upon by a small flock of swallows, careering round and round and arguing loudly. It seemed to me at the time that four of the flock stayed behind and the rest moved on.

I'd not been back till today - and there are two nests, only about three feet apart, up below the roof. Both nests are overflowing with loud babies almost at the point of fledging.