Who am I?

An individual, of no great importance, who is unable to see the natural world as a place for competition. I catch fish, watch birds, derive immense pleasure from simply looking at butterflies, moths, bumble-bees, etc - without the need for rules! I am Dylan and this is my blog - if my opinions offend? Don't bother logging on again - simple!


Thursday 10 November 2022

Biding my time

No fishing? Well then I'll go birding; there's absolutely no way I'm sitting indoors moaning about something I can't change. The river will get back into decent nick soon enough and, while I wait, wasting away my time looking through binoculars can be no less enjoyable that sitting behind motionless rods awaiting a bite alarm to sound? Simply spending time outdoors is good for my mental wellbeing and it really doesn't matter how, when or where I do it. After the high octane birding of yesterday, it was back to the mundane as I chose to have a wander along the Western Undercliff to Ramsgate Harbour. I parked the van as close to the tunnel as is possible then walked the undercliff to the harbour before returning via the cliff-top path and descending back to the coast through the "Chine".

Nothing much to report, although three Little Egrets were a little unexpected, but I'm sure they're often seen by other birders who frequent the area on a regular basis. I could have probably written a list before I left home, such was the predictability of the majority of species I encountered along my route. One recent aspect of birding which I'm very happy to adopt is the recording of "alba" Wagtails. Sure that spring White Wagtails are easy enough to id, but the range of plumages shown by wintering birds is a bloody minefield.

I read something on the SBBOT website, a few days ago, stating the apparent demise in Turnstone numbers. This is totally beyond my comprehension, purely because I'm no longer birding on a regular basis. The walk around the harbour was to demonstrate just this. I only counted ten birds, although I didn't walk around to the Eastern Arm. 

An adult Peregrine was past before I'd lifted my bins, thus avoiding any photographic evidence, but that was about it as I made my way back towards the van. I was out for ninety minutes, or so, and much happier for the experience. The rods are prepped, the kit assembled, and I'm Piking tomorrow. Where? Now that's a secret!

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