Return to Murder Moss

This blog was written with the idea of illustrating it with a number of pictures from last Saturday’s visit to Murder Moss on one of the most beautiful days of this year so far. Having down loaded the pictures it was to discover that my small pocket camera, designed to capture the moment had decided to malfunction at a most inopportune moment!! As a result I’ve pondered for a while about whether to post this blog at all, as there are no good illustrations to go with it, but I hope that the writing stands on its own, without the addition of the pictures. Enjoy!

Finally managed to returned to Murder Moss after a break of over seven months. A place, which I’m sure you know by now is one of my favourites, on what turned out to be one of the best days of the spring so far. A day when the the sky was an amazing blue colour, spotted by fluffy white clouds that scudded quickly across. Luckily at ground level that wind wasn’t blowing and for once the place was still, almost balmy in the sunshine, though there was still a bitter nip in the background, just to remind me that winter refuses to totally let go its grip of the weather.

Even though it was now the end of May, the vegetation was still hovering back as it had been at the beginning of May last year. The new greens had still failed to take over from the faded dead remains of last years vegetation, and the Willows still only had a hint of a green to colour their bare twigs.

This new spring look was most obvious on the edge of an area of Reed, where the remainder of last years growth had produced tall white, almost ghost like stems. These stems seemed to form a sharp boundary line, behind which they floated like an ethereal reminder of the previous year, yet to be blown away by the rush of this springs new growth. In front of this boundary was a carpet of dark green formed from this years new growth of Meadowsweet, which had currently failed to produce anything more than a low cover of leaves. Even so the promise was there with new fresh clumps of bright yellow Marsh Marigold flowers, currently one of the few plants that had made it into flower this spring.

Feeding Stations

We revamped our bird feeding station last weekend, as the original is getting a little fragile and since the loss of the washing line we’d lost a number of hanging spots for feeders. So the revamp involved adding a new post that allows room for both seed and Niger feeders.

The new feeders had hardly been filled and stopped swinging, before the local population of birds were investigating the new food source. To begin with it was the usual regulars, such as the Blue Tits, Great Tits, Coal Tits and Chaffinches, who took to the seed feeder with great gusto. Exploring gingerly to begin with, before recognising the opportunity and diving head first into find their favourite snacks. Have to say that these are fussy birds, picking out and dropping all the bits that don’t fit their fancy! It would seem that sunflower seeds are their favourites, before anything else in the mix. They sit there picking out the sunflower seeds, in order to reach these they just throw out everything else. So I’m very glad we got a feeder with an attached tray, as this gives the birds a second chance at all those seeds they didn’t fancy the first time around. The biggest culprit at this fussiness are the Chaffinches who happily sit and throw seeds away for most of the day. I’m not at all unsure that one or two of the male Chaffinches are not in danger of becoming portly to say the least, as they sit on the feeder for long periods of time, if undisturbed, eating whatever is available and takes their fancy while throwing the rest out.

Once the seed feeder had almost been emptied in only a matter of a day or so, the feeders began to pick through those pieces that they fancied slightly less. This time throwing the discarded bits off of the tray and on to the ground below. Joining the mottle crew above, we also have the addition of a Dunnock, who moves round the tray very much like a like a jerky wind up toy. Yet again we have a species that has failed to read the bird book and come to feed on the feeder when they should just be a ground feeder. Below the feeder we now have a new population move in in the form of the local Pheasant and his lady friend, who have discovered an easy new source of food, that doesn’t have the risk attached of being shot while feeding!

“Room for a small one?” – Siskins – 22 May 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

The other new feeder is the Niger feeder and this one was soon taken over by Siskins in particular. For the first day or two there were maybe three Siskins but by the end of the third day this had rocketed to a maximum of six at any one time. It soon became clear also that the Siskins had a pecking order with the brightly coloured males at the top, taking preference over all the rest. Now when I first saw the others I had assumed that they were all the less brightly coloured ones were females. But having observed them for a while I’m not totally sure that they were all only adult females and wondered whether some of them were in fact juveniles. Some of the speckled and streaked Siskins behaved as though they were begging for food, specifically from the adult males. So far I have not seen this begging behaviour to another female looking birds. The behaviour involves the more speckled birds fluttering their wings and gaping their mouths open towards the males. Either way, whether females or juveniles they weren’t getting much shot, as the males refused to feed them or take much notice at all of these birds. As for the males, they also only have limited liking for each other and at regular intervals a spat would break out between one or two of them, which would see a them fly up in a flurry of feet and feathers.

Siskins – 22 May 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

A Ducklings Tale

Talking of spring over the last few posts and hoping that it will arrive here shortly, leaving those cold reminders of winter along way behind, I was recently reminded that spring was coming if only by small steps at a time, while staring out of the window at work the other day. At that moment from out of the sun’s glare there appeared, the my first sighting of a group of ducklings for this year. In fact there were nine active balls of fluff that called themselves ducklings, accompanied by an ever watchful and proud mother.

Mother and Clan – 10 May 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

At this stage the ducklings were still just small balls of fluff, less than a handful worth of duckling each, but so full of life and energy. They were still of a size that wandering too far from the bank meant that the current caught them in a second and had them off downstream before you could blink. They then had a stiff battle to swim back upstream against the current to return to the family fold, which usually involved them keeping close to the bank and out of the main current as much as possible.

Ducklings are no different to any other youngster, where the world is a wonderful place full of new sights and sounds to be explored and at such a young age they seem oblivious to the dangers of the world at large. This lack of instinct for danger was illustrated so well, while I was observing out of the window, when the ducklings soon became the focus of interest for a passing Crow. The Crow had landed close by on the bank and took a serious interest in the group of curious ducklings, watching closely their mad frantic movements with growing hungry intentions for having a duckling or two as a mid-morning snack. Mother ever alert, especially to the curiosity of the Crow and its intentions, herded her clan in tight against the bank and out of easy grab reach. Here she kept them safe for as long as the Crow was present, not letting them wander away from her protective eye. Soon the though Crow realised that an easy snack of duckling was not going to be forthcoming and went off to hunt a mid-morning snack elsewhere.

 

Always on Watch! – 10 May 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

Bringer of Spring – the Lesser Celandine

I have always admired this plant – the Lesser Celandine. It’s the torch bearer of spring, lighting the way towards those supposedly bright sunny days of summer with an early splash of golden yellow across the still bare backgrounds of green, when much else is still wrapped away against the remaining cold of winter.

Lesser Celandines – 06 May 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

The Lesser Celandine is a plant of the weather, when the sun shines the flowers open to display their iridescent yellow petals that seem to fluoresce in the sunlight, but then hide them away and close the flowers tight when it becomes cold and cloudy. Maybe this is best expressed by William Wordsworth, in the first verse of his poem that is dedicated to this plant – The Lesser Celandine:-

“There is a Flower, the Lesser Celandine,
That shrinks, like many more, from cold and rain;
And, the first moment that the sun may shine,
Bright as the sun himself, ’tis out again!”

In a spring that has seen such a long cold extension of winter; when it has only been in recent weeks that there has even been a hint of the warmth or the sunshine of spring to grab hold of and with which to announce that winter is over. So to have the blooms of the Lesser Celandine been few and far apart. Then suddenly as the temperature has risen a degree or two and the sun has decided to shine, there they are, as if by a miracle, masses of these flowers are to be had. They have suddenly gone from single lonely blooms to sheets of bright inflorescent yellow, over the dark green heart-shaped leaves that frame the display and had sat there silently waiting the star of the show to appear.

Lesser Celandines – 06 May 2013 (Copyright Carol Jones)

No sooner have the flowers opened and brought their brightness to the world than the weather will begin to take its toll. Soon the brightness begins to fade, the yellows bleach to white, and the stars of the spring fall into a tattered bedraggled state as petals whither and fall. All that will soon be left of the beacon that burned so brightly, is a spiky ball of browning seeds and the background of green heart-shaped leaves, all of which will soon be lost amongst the sprouting vegetation of the summer, to await silently for the calling of another spring.