A Quiet Day in Weymouth

So, before anyone else gets on the 'let's get Bagsy bandwagon' best I hold my hand up and admit my culinary skills should be confined to the galley and not mixed with my incompetent literary prowess. I had never heard of the French term/word Jus (pronounced dew) before my last dinner party attended by Don Moxham who complimented me on 'the jus', hence my poor attempt at spelling the word yesterday. Djew my ass! And while we're at it it didn't have anything to do with my electrical supply even though it contained Red Currents, which I hope will put that one to bed as well?

This morning, I guess not surprisingly, was a late start, followed by an early finish. With just a single Blackcap singing in the cemetery and the sky looking more threatening by the minute, Ille and I hurried on to Radipole. There we found just c3 singing Chiffchaff and only just made it to the Visitor's Centre before the heavens opened where we took shelter for half an hour. That was the end of the 'birding' for the day, but we had received news of an Osprey seen catching a 'huge' fish, a couple of Avocet and a Green Sandpiper so maybe that was the direction we should have gone.

After a light lunch we dropped in to see Bowie and Sheila and disregarding the earliness of the hour we had a cider and glass of wine. Having met Ille before , there was an exchanging of gifts then agreed to have dinner together sometime next week before Ille returns to Tallinn.

Sheila & Bowie (doing what they do best, studying Orchids) Bagsy & Ille

This evening Ille and I enjoyed a cold plate evening meal as I introduced her to Joe Bonamassa, and suitably impressed I have decided to take her to the Bournemouth International Centre to see the man as a birthday present.

Me & My Girl

A champagne picnic on the train, combined with a later than expected arrival at Weymouth made for a late emergence this morning. A text announcing the arrival of a Sedge Warbler at Radipole was enough to inspire a quick breakfast and an even quicker walk to the reserve. On the way there was nothing of note, except Ille was glad to retrace her steps of 5 months ago, and no sign of the Warbler. Just a few Chiffchaff were singing away while c5 sand Martin flew overhead, but rain soon put paid to the whole project so we headed home, me prepare dinner and Ille to relax and enjoy her English holiday.

An afternoon of music, Ille continues the enjoyment,

while I take a well earned rest from peeling all those spuds.

Was that the 'dinner gong'?

Portland crab on a Mediterranean salad, complimented by a '97 Nicolas Feuillatte Champagne as a starter, to the strains of Wind and Wuthering, Genesis. Followed by braised Red-legged Partridge, boiled Jersey potatoes, steamed baby parsnips, carrots julienne, petits pois with a red current djew and The Fields of the Nephalim album Elizium. This required 'pushing the boat out' with an '88 Haut Brion (pictured). Sticky toffee pudding with Lexia raisins seemed appropriate, and what better to finish the whole gig than a half bottle of 1990 Climens (Barsac) and what better than the Kate bush classic The Kick Inside. Afterwards we settled down to ELO at Wembley circa 1979 plus the seminal George Harrison Tribute Concert from the Royal Albert Hall and the Macallan!

A Return, Weymouth to Stansted Please

The whole of today was taken up meeting Ille from Stansted, with a train to London Waterloo, Underground to Victoria and the Easy-Bus to the airport, so with just a little time to spare maybe I should address a query received from more than one of our overseas readers.

Remarkably, this Blog now reaches readers in at least 17 countries, making it increasingly difficult to write so that everyone will understand what I'm on about. In recent Posts there has been mentioned of both 'Twitching' & 'Twitcher' which has resulted in a number of requests to explain. While no lines or demarcations are draw, you can belong to either one of these groups or be part of both. The 2 are usually defined as 'Birders' and 'Twitchers', with most having been part of both during some part of their 'birding' life. In essence, a 'Birder' is one who, when time allows, will enjoy the general search for birds both common and rare, while on the other hand an 'ardent Twitcher' will simply stay in the comfort of their home, armed with a 'bird alert pager', telephone etc and simply await news of the arrival of a rare bird they need for their 'list'. On receipt of such information, they'll jump into their BMW, set the Tom-Tom with coordinates supplied by the 'alert company', zoom off at high speed hoping to gaining even the briefest glimpse of the target bird. This latter description is something of an exaggeration, as I doubt there is anyone who does this exclusively, but hope this gives the reader an idea of what it's all about? The word 'Twitch/er' was devised to describe the feeling of euphoria, anticipation and prospect of disappointment once information has been received and the chase begun. I for one have been on both sides of the track, and doubt there is a serious 'birder' who has never experienced this condition. These days I like to be known as a 'Birder' so you can imaging my reaction when, interviewed for our local newspaper, emphasising both this and spelling out my name as BAGSY to the reporter, to find next day the caption reading "BUGSY the TWITCHER said".

Probably an insignificant bit of local history, but something I found of great interest when I visited a mates house in the week which in part involved Royal Navy hero Jack Mantel.
23 year old Leading Seaman Jack Mantel was posthumously awarded a VC in Portland Harbour at the beginning of the serious Blitz on 4 July 1940. He was a member of a gun crew aboard the auxiliary anti-aircraft ship HMS Foylebank, a converted merchantman taken up from trade, when at 08-35 hours, radar spotted twenty enemy aircraft approaching from the south. Minutes later, the Stuka dive-bombers swept around the Verne Heights of Portland and attacked the dangerous anti-aircraft ship. The first bombs knocked out the ship's electrical system and the gun crews were forced to work their eight 4-inch guns and a pair of four barrel pom-poms manually. They continued to fight, despite twenty-two bomb hits on the ship.

Leading Seaman Jack Mantel was grievously wounded during the enemy attacks and several others members of his gun crew had been killed but he continued to operate his pom-pom 'until, as the last enemy plane departed, he fell from his post'. The ship was on fire and eventually sank the following day. This was the first Royal Navy VC of the war and the only award for valour in Home Waters, in addition to this Leading Seaman Mantel had already been awarded the 1939-45 Star, Atlantic Star plus the 1939-45 War Medal.

While enjoying a cup of coffee I noticed this telephone on the wall and asked of its origin. Now the working household telephone, it was once affixed in one of the many tunnels under the Verne Citadel and opening up in the Naval Dockyard below. While L/S Jack was giving his life in defence of our country, 2 unknown Dockyard workers were just inside the tunnel door, when caught by one of the bomb blasts, also loosing their lives. The instrument lay in a box for many years but the story had been passed from father to son, allowing it to be past on to you today.

23-00 and we're home, with a large Macallan single malt, Pink Floyd's Pulse on the DVD and no need to get up early for work Paradise! - Good Night.

Slim Pickings

With all forecasters predicting rain this afternoon, it was always likely to be a short 'birding' day but with some preparations to make it was going to be anyway. At 07-00 the sky was 6 parts covered and with very little wind the birdwatching should have been good, but there was an acute shortage of targets. Not a migrant during the walk from home to Lodmoor (via Radipole) and there things were very quiet as well. A single Chiffchaff did let out a burst of song as single Spoonbill, and Redshank plus c3 Lapwing fed on mud banks, while the only other sign of life was left to Dick Morris who had a Red Kite flying high over the north of the reserve. All else were c3 Shelduck a good way from shore settled on the sea in Weymouth Bay, so I took a short cut up Wey Bay Avenue and caught a bus to Dorchester. There I had the best 'fun' of the day, an hours shopping ready for Ille's arrival tomorrow. We have quite a heavy schedule over the next 12 days, during which time we hope to see many of you, so here's hoping.

A message for my friends at Raco Buenos Aires, I received your e-mail today but when I tried to return to it this evening it had disappeared. Don't know what is wrong with my system, but if you could send it again I'll transfer it directly to Save and answer it from there. Thank you for sending anyway, good to hear from you.

Wood Pigeon

Collared Dove

Blackbird (male)

Magpie

Vernal Equinox

In sharp contrast to yesterday, the sun was well above the sea-front buildings when I left home early this morning, welcoming the first full day of Springtime. According to my Reed's Nautical Almanac the precise time the Current Bun was directly above the Equator was 17.32 UTC yesterday, so I'm a bit adrift, but anything that means more daylight gets my vote. Just so we can all be a 'flip to the front' for the Autumnal version, that occurs at 03.09 on 23rd September.

In the cemetery the male Blackcap was already in full song, using 'the' guardedly I feel this may well be last years bird returning once again looking for a mate? Similarly, both Goldcrest and Coal Tit were at it, while the Black Redstart remained at Pottery Lane, the only addition being c7 Siskin flying north letting out an occasional cheeping call. c4 Pochard greeted me at Radipole and before entering the kissing gate c3 Chiffchaff and at least c2 Bullfinch were seen at close range. Overhead c14 Common Snipe whirled in ever decreasing circles before dropping in to join another c17 already settled at the reed edge, while a scruffy, juvenile? Marsh Harrier quartered the northern reed bed.

The Black Redstart looked so good in the early morning sunshine, I thought I'd share it with you.

At the main footbridge, this quartet of Coots were jockeying for 'mating' position, firstly posturing, then

things started getting a bit more physical.

At Ferry Bridge there was no more than 5 Herring Gulls, so it was another bus onward to Portland. Alighting at Weston Corner and crossing the grass verge this confiding female Kestrel (which has been in the area for quite a while now) took an Earthworm no more than 6 feet away from where I stood.

The muddy walk along Barleycrates was uneventful, but at the seaward end this lone Raven did fly overhead and already there was sign of the odd Wheatear. There were c6 in all, but that was it until reaching the Common where quite a few more had arrived, the count totaling 16, along with c2 White Wagtail.

This Common Toad stood sentry outside of the Observatory gate, while the news from within was mainly of common migrants and a couple of Red-throated Divers, a species that would increase my year list. With coffee and some Duncan Walbridge doughnuts on offer while sat in the sun, a report of a Hoopoe was enough to kick Ken Parker, Ricky Lambert and myself into search mode. At Culverwell we did find a number of Chiffchaff and c2 splendid Firecrest, but our wander through Top Fields came to naught - good job we'd seen the one last week! That's when I called it a day,

but did see this Common Buzzard upsetting the Weymouth Gull Squadron as it flew over Asda. The only other thing of note was a report from Daragh Croxson who phoned to say a Red Kite was flying west (towards my house) over Lodmoor. Quarter of an hour looking from the bedroom widow drew a blank, but then I had to break off to 'clean ship', that's interesting isn't it?

One Swallow Doesn't Make A Summer

An extremely blustery start to the day, with overcast sky and persistent light drizzle wasn't enough to deter the intrepid, but it was a slow start in the cemetery. With little to report I hurried across the road to the Radipole Reserve where at the kissing gate I was met by the sweet song of my first Willow Warbler of the year.

Willow Warbler

Although one or two have already been recorded in the county it's always nice to see this common little bird particularly the first. Similar to it's close relative the Chiffchaff, there are visible differences such as leg colour, brighter plumage etc but the real clincher is the afore mentioned sweet song. Very happy with this addition, it was a full 60 seconds before another entered the book and in quick succession a third. It was obvious things were on the move today (or maybe overnight) as I watched this mixed group of about a dozen each Sand Martin and Swallows. Despite there being more than one Swallow there was certainly no sign of summer, in fact the weather was getting progressively worse. By the time I reached the Visitor's Center, relocating the 'summer plumage' Black-tailed Godwit of a few days ago (plus another 'winter' bird, the rain had become much heavier. In the hope of some improvement during a bus ride to Portland, Top Hill was once again shrouded in mist as I plodded along a waterlogged Barleycrates.

(Barn) Swallow

Sand Martin

The walk along West Cliff was dismal to say the least, with the 25+ knot Southerly wind blowing the now heavy rain straight into my face. With the only sign of birdlife coming from a few arriving Linnet, Goldfinch and Meadow Pipit I made the decision to short cut across Top Fields and head for the sanctuary of the Bird Observatory. At the Obs there were far more people than birds and the 'day list' showing just 3 notable species, the coffee was most welcome. Sally, a lady 'birder' from Essex, arrived with news of a few Wheatear on the Common, Gannet flying past the Bill and Purple Sandpiper on the rocks was enough to spur me into action, and in her company headed for Pulpit Rock where she was hoping to see Puffin. There we met Tony Conway and Phyl England 'scoping for the same, and as jammy as you like I managed to pick one up within minutes of arrival. Almost simultaneously a few Gannets, probably stimulated by the fresh wind, started to pass by (my first of the year) which was my cue to head off in search of the Wheatear. They too were obliging, and before catching the bus home I had counted a total of 19.

Wheatear male

Wheatear female

A few newly arrived Linnets

A lovely seascape

Gannet

The Year List now stands at 125

Rain Stops Play!

'Calling' Black Redstart in Pottery Lane

Visibility was down to about zero when I left home this morning but so was the wind making for a mild start, neither of which deterred a Song Thrush from bursting into vocals at 04-00. The first Chiffchaff in the cemetery this year was in similar voice, but a real surprise was a Black Redstart 'calling' from a rooftop just across the road in Pottery Lane. The bird itself was not unexpected, but this was only the second time I have ever heard one producing vocals in the UK. As I crossed the bye-pass, with the Black-start following and invading Radipole airspace, the fog simply drifted up the Wey Valley and disappeared from the area.

A male Pochard undertaking ablutions.

There were more Chiffs on the reserve, c3 to be precise, but little else except for c5 Pochard, a pair of displaying Canada Geese, 2 pairs of Great Crested Grebe, a fly-by Shelduck plus c47 Common Snipe. Down at the Westham sluices the Hooded Merganser was also displaying and soliciting just about every waterfowl in residence in, I guess, another vain attempt to find a mate. In such fine plumage I find it impossible to walk past without taking a photograph, reproduced here for your pleasure.

Shelduck

Hooded Merganser

Ditto

Ditto in 'courting' mode.

With the fog gone and the day brightening by the minute, the best bet was thought to be Portland. With the tide pressed hard up against the wall at Ferry Bridge there was little point of a stopping there, so continues onto the Island which is when I caught up with the mist and rain again. Alighting at the George pub on Reforne and happening across another Black Redstart at the Royal Manor School, the rain continued but I persisted through Barleycrates. All I found there was another Chiffchaff, after which, apart from a small flock of Linnets, there was nothing down to the Observatory. The intent was to have a coffee and assess the weather but bumped into Ken Parker, recently returned for Sri Lanka, who was unfortunately in a bit of a hurry so no time to hear his story (never mind Ken, I'll catch you next time). With an offer of a lift back to Weymouth with John Down and lady-friend Mo, the rain seemingly set in for the day I accepted. There, we spent a short time in the north hide, Radipole before heading to my house for coffee. With more or less a captive audience, it was time for a couple of tracks of Joe Bonamassa, but these 2 serious muso's needed no captivating as they had already taken a punt on Joe via my recommendation on this Blog. In possession of 2 albums, they had not seen the 'Live from the Royal Albert Hall' DVD, and while playing the conversation darted from one music legend to another. Thanks for coming over guys!

Round the table from left Bob and Anne Clark, Don & Liz Moxom, Nigel and (my eldest) Julie plus Caroline and Nick Tomlinson, all saluting with an Estonian chocolate.

The back end of the day was given over to some serious socialising, as 9 of us met up at the Imperial Garden restaurant in Dorchester. A convivial evening much given over to thoughts of my Estonian lady-friend Ille, we toasted her health with some of the chocolates she had sent to us as a gift.

The Master of Ceremonies with his new bag!!