Pike fishing, on Friday, produced some action but was of little relevance given the date. At the eleventh hour, on the eleventh day, of the eleventh month, my "Poppy" proudly on display, I was all alone observing the two minute silence. How others view this ritual is for personal opinion but, for me, with my family's military background, I feel duty bound to observe this moment of reflection. Whilst on the bank I'd received some sad news, which has no place here, and I wasn't in the best frame of mind. Suffice to say that my homeward journey involved a slight detour as I paid a quick visit to someone who means so much.
The garden moth trapping has been a little hit and miss, of late, purely because of the weather patterns. Temperatures have been perfect, yet wind speed, direction and rainfall have meant that results were unlikely to reward the effort involved? Last night the wind speed had fallen away and I was quietly confident that, given the conditions, something would happen.
I wasn't to be disappointed, as I discovered our second garden record of Radford's Flame Shoulder. A rather worn individual, but absolutely no doubt about the id. Two Scarce Bordered Straws and four Rusty-dot Pearls were the best of the rest, plus numerous LBAM's. The trap is back on tonight, although temperatures aren't quite as high as they were yesterday. There certainly can't be too many more nights conducive to attracting these insects before it becomes a wasted effort?
Pike fishing, birding and/or garden mothing are, simply fun, but of no consequence when viewed from a different perspective.
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