Our Kitchen Window

Our kitchen window looks to the south over land dropping down to the valley’s river.  Underneath the waving of tan reed bushes, where I imagine once were green pastures, the land lies crinkled and rocky.

There is an endless magic show outside this window.  The sun poking from behind clouds and the riotous birdsong in the trees and hedges surrounding the house.  This past week, we heard the return of two more of our migratory birds:  The Cuckoo and the Grasshopper Warbler.  Almost overnight, the leaves on the trees are beginning to unfurl.

And, the swallows are back.  We saw four flying about earlier this month.

Most of us are perpetually short of time, but now we are bathed in it.   By the close of the day, I wonder how the hours flew past so effortlessly?  No doubt I lost track of time observing ripples crossing the water of the pond or birds splashing in the bird bath.  Have we always had so many bees on the Willow catkins?

Like Jimmy Stewart in Rear Window, I have busied myself intently observing the happenings beyond these panes of glass.  Unlike Jimmy Stewart’s character, I do not have a broken leg.  I’ve recorded in my journal a week of kitchen window observations and remind myself that each of these details happens just once, like an introduction or a death.

 

Dartmoor

Fog Rolling in on Dartmoor

Monday

Today I spotted a small Tortoise Shell butterfly landing on the catkins of the Willow tree.  This very tree self-seeded itself about five years ago.  Things grow slowly here, so it is currently the size of a tree half its age, but it is coming along nicely.  This gives us both hope as Roger recently completed planting 120 trees in our fields.  I did not help.  Instead, I finished filling the certainly-more-than-a-mere-120 potholes along the track.

Next, we have the veg beds to complete before planting out in a few weeks.  And there sits 16 tonnes of rocks to shift as we build up our gabion wall to protect against erosion.  We’re busy.

 

Tuesday

While chatting with one of my brothers, I watched a solitary ant roam about the window ledge, then up and over the screen of my phone.  It paused, perhaps taking in the image of my brother as he laughed at a joke.  I wonder, when will we get our annual ant invasion?  Every spring, for one-day only, the ants come marching into the kitchen from the window or under the cabinets.  For a few hours, they are everywhere.  A proper horror show invasion!   We throw open the windows and the door and within about an hour, they are all gone.  It’s as if they have a nest deep in the stone walls of the house, emerge when conditions are just so, and then head off on their summer adventures.  Was this first ant on a scouting mission, distracted by the conversation between me and Peter?

 

Wednesday

Tonight there will be a Pink Moon, the full moon of April.  Last night we saw the preview of this Supermoon casting the most splendid shadows across the land.   But, as this day has rolled on, the clouds have increased, giving a hazy effect to what had been otherwise a clear blue sky with sunshine.  There will be no lunar observation this evening for us.

“It’s happening Reg, something’s actually happening Reg!”  In the distance, a thick cloud of smoke is filling the air, adding to the haze in the distance.  I hope it is my neighbours having a bonfire, the result of a lot of gardening work, but I will call to confirm.  It’s been so dry lately, a fire could easily travel.

In the upper right-hand corner of the window I watched a spider cast her web.  I am captured by her design and abilities to hang, drop, hang, attach, leap, hang, drop, attach, hang, knot…..

 

 

Thursday

Oh my!  The spider’s web trapped a plump fly.  She’s feasting on it but I can only see this from a distance.  Too close and she retreats, her meal safely wrapped in her web.

There’s a light frost covering the ground and most of the daffodils are blooming.  I had planted an extra 150 bulbs last autumn.  The small white flowers on the Blackthorn have emerged.  We put the hedges in almost four years ago and this is the first flowering we’ve had.  They are finally establishing themselves.  Small daisies are appearing in the grass, a cheery presence.   Seemingly overnight, the nettles are growing in and amongst the hedge plants.  I will go out and cut them to make soup and pesto.

 

 

Friday

What madness!  The chaffinches just chased the Great Tits off of the bird feeders.  Our hens just chased the rabbits (yes, more than one.  Little buggers!) and Jackdaws from the bird seed laying on the ground.  A big rat poked its head out from under one of the shrubs.  Of course, all I need to do is say “damn rats” and off Millie and Brock go to issue their barking orders to who is permitted to gather socially at the feeders.  Rats are not on their accepted list.  Of course, all the other birds fly away too, but are now returning.

Ah, two Siskins!  We haven’t seen them in ages.  Green Finches and Gold Finches are joining the crowd too.

 

Saturday

Those nettles have grown.  I must get busy and do something about them before they become too big, too tough and bullish to confront.

Atop one of the dead trees on the other side of the river a buzzard is perched.  Earlier I watched her circle above and then drop like a rock to the ground.  I wonder what she’s caught?  She’s busy now preening and sitting comfortably with a full belly.  I do love birds of prey and their “top dog” pecking order.

 

 

Sunday

In all of this quiet, it is shocking to see three separate helicopters fly over.  Where are they headed?  What are they transporting?  I don’t think I’ve ever given this much thought before.

Bold as brass, a Stoat ran past before diving in between gaps in the stone wall.  Is this what was attacking the baby rabbit the other day when I heard those horrible cries from the wall?

 

 

Any day

All this activity outside the kitchen window.  The living room window offers a view of the pond and different observations.  Meanwhile, the radio plays the news in the background of my hide.  The daily release of stats with the humanity behind it incomprehensible.  I get up to turn it off and resume my perch.

As the evening begins to creep in, there is a silence like sinking into sleep.  A calm and settled place.

Ooh, there went a bat!

Tempus Fugit And A Lot Of Other Things, Too

The other night, there was a bat in our house.  Not just any bat, but a Greater Horseshoe Bat.   Roger identified it and our friend Richard, who is an ecologist and holds a license to handle bats, confirmed.

Greater Horseshoe Bat

Greater Horseshoe Bat in our Kitchen

There are 17 types of bat recorded in Britain and the Greater Horseshoe Bat is one of the rarest.  In 2001, there were 11 confirmed species of bat living in a variety of habitats within Dartmoor National Park, which is one of the largest breeding roosts in Western Europe for this type of bat.

Bat roosts everywhere are suffering due to human activities such as modern farming methods, conversions of buildings, woodland mismanagement, the sealing of cave and mine entrances and the use of toxic chemicals and pesticides in the countryside.  The mismanagement of hedgerows, or their loss altogether, can affect foraging for bats.  Since 2004, Dartmoor National Park, along with other conservation groups, has worked to survey the bats and educate farmers about how to maintain bat friendly land and animal management.

Bats aren’t the only things that fly about Crockern.  Inside the house, we’ve also had a couple of birds, lots of moths, flies, and more than a few flying Daddy Long Legs.

Outside, we see an assortment of birds.  Roger has dutifully kept a list of those flying about our home:

Blackbird, Blue Tit, Buzzard, Chaffinch, Coal Tit, Cormorant, Crow, Curlew, Dove, Dunnock, Goldfinch, Grasshopper Warbler, Great Spotted Woodpecker, Great Tit, Greenfinch, Green Woodpecker, Grey Heron, Grey Wagtail, Hen Harrier, Hobby, House Martins, House Sparrow, Jackdaw, Jay, Kestrel, Magpie, Meadow Pipit, Nuthatch, Pied Flycatcher, Pied Wagtail, Raven, Red Kite, Redstart, Robin, Skylark, Spotted Flycatcher, Starling, Stonechat, Swallows, Treecreeper, Whinchat, Wood Warbler, Wren, Yellowhammer, and, Yellow Wagtail

We’ve also heard, but not seen, a Cuckoo and a Tawny Owl.

Bird watching is a popular activity for many walking up our path.  We’ve met several “twitchers” and “birders”.  There is a distinction.  My friend Carolyn was very clear that twitchers are bird watchers whose goal is to collect sightings of rare birds and will drop what they are doing, drive to some destination to see said bird and add it to their life list.  Birders, on the other hand, are those people who have a general interest and knowledge of birds and wildlife and like to watch birds.

A casual bird watcher, like myself, may easily give myself away by saying something like “Wow, look at that bunch of ravens!”  A twitcher is likely to give him/herself away with a snort and comment, “Don’t you mean that unkindness of ravens?”  As far as I’m concerned, the dead giveaway of twitchers is that they are likely to refer to birds using only their Latin names and will comfortably use archaic linguistic groupings.

One day it was pouring down with rain when I heard a knock at the door.  There stood a man dressed head to toe in waterproof clothing and hanging around his neck were two sets of binoculars.  “Oh, hi.  I was just wondering if you’ve heard a unique sound in the meadow?” he asked.   An odd greeting.  Nonetheless, I knew the sound as Roger had pointed it out to me just a few days before.  Unfortunately, my recall was a bit off and when attempting to sound knowledgeable about the Grasshopper Warbler, I said, “Oh yes, that would be the Cricket Shaker.”  I did not impress this twitcher with my bird watching ways.   He gave me a look that suggested I had just said, “Why look at that flock of crows!”  I accept that I will never become a serious birder, but I am motivated to try and commit more to memory.

And who doesn’t like a list as a way to get started?  Here’s how to sound more in the know when encountering a twitcher when one knocks on your door:

Brood of Hens;

Cast of Falcons;

Charm of Finches;

Descent of Woodpeckers;

Dole of Doves;

Exaltation of Larks;

Flight of Swallows;

Herd of Curlew or Wrens;

Host of Sparrows;

Kettle of Hawks;

Murder of Crows (not Flock of Crows as above);

Murmuration of Starlings;

Party of Jays;

Parliament of Owls or Rooks;

Siege of Herons;

Tidings of Magpies;

And of course, Unkindness of Ravens

I may not go so far as to use all of these in sentences, but if nothing else, I think I can at least manage to use the obsolete “Dissimulation of Birds,” rather than the more easily understood “Flock of Birds” next time I have the opportunity.

It’s true; I have become a bird watcher.  Each morning I will sit looking out the window at the birds at the feeders while I drink my coffee.  I can spend an enormous amount of time thinking my thoughts while watching the arrival and departure patterns at the feeder.  Regularly, there is the little Chaffinch who has a missing leg, and the two Great Spotted Woodpeckers who like to hunt insects in the rotten post at the fence.

Now that summer seems finally to have arrived in the middle of September, the bugs outdoors are in full force.  Midges being among the many. According to the dictionary on my computer, a midge is “a small two-winged fly that is often seen in swarms near water or marshy areas where it breeds.  The families Chrionomidae (the nonbiting midges) and Ceratopogonidae (see biting midge). “    I need look no further than the red marks on my arms, we have the biting midge.  Not as aggressive as the ones found in Scotland, but they are tenacious and determined and, if the air is still, out in full force to feed on us.

Also feeding in full force are the Swallows and House Martins, who dive-bomb about on an insect binge!   As they fill the sky in aerial pursuit of their bug meal, it is not a hard stretch to imagine the skies during the Battle of Britain, with Spitfires and Lancaster Bombers defending the southern coast.  It is no surprise, that they are known as a Flight of Swallows.

Elephant Hawk Moth

Elephant Hawk Moth on our Bright Pink Towel

We also have general houseflies, butterflies (Brimstone, Small and Large Whites, Small Tortoiseshell, and Small Heath), the occasional bee, and one day an Elephant Hawk Moth resting on a towel on the line.  It may have been using the bright pink towel as camouflage.  This is the first time I’ve seen this beautiful moth up close.  I’ve seen the caterpillar stage, and still have a few nightmares about it.  If interested, one can easily find a home video on YouTube and watch how its proboscis nose moves in and out.  Impressive, but honestly, I didn’t have the stomach to try to film when I saw one of these in our garden.  I went inside and left it to its prehistoric moves.

Last week we were putting the finishing touches on our raised vegetable beds, which involved moving a ton of veggie compost from the top of the track down to the beds using a wheelbarrow, buckets and our determination.  We were just finishing when we heard a thunderous roar followed by the visual spectacle of nine Red Arrows flying past in strict formation.  The Red Arrows is the aerobatic team of the Royal Air Force who promote and recruit for the RAF as they do many fly-pasts at major events.  Such events include the opening ceremony of the 2012 London Olympics and the lesser-known completion celebration of our raised vegetable beds.

Red Arrows from the RAF Waddington Airshow (found on internet)

There is an MOD training area just over the hill so we often see military planes.  Occasionally, we will see the Dartmoor Rescue helicopters looking for some lost or injured hiker on the moors.  Since walkers are permitted to wander all over the moors, it is not uncommon for some to get lost, especially if the fog or mist moves in, sometimes making it difficult to orient yourself beyond a mere three feet.

We once spotted paragliders floating above the hill, and almost every day, there are anglers wading in the river using their fly rods to try and catch brown trout.

But, let us return to the twitcher who knocked on our door.  A few weeks later, he came knocking again.  This time, he had a friend with him and the two were hoping to see a Redstart as the one man had never seen one.  While listening to this conversation — I had opted for eaves dropping rather than answering the door — I found myself feeling righteous because the day before I spotted a Redstart sitting on our wall.  Roger identified it for me but all the same, I saw it.  Sometimes it just pays not to make so much effort.

In contemporary use, the Latin term Tempus Fugit means “time flies and we’re letting it pass us by, so let’s get moving and do something important!”  The poet Virgil first used the phrase when he wrote:  Sed fugit interea fugit irreparabile temmpus, singula dum capti circumvectamur amore.   Or, “But meanwhile it flees; time flees irretrievably, while we wander around, prisoners of our love of detail.”

I like this bit by Virgil.  Why do I need to move quickly to accomplish something?  Instead, can’t I just drift off into my thoughts, sometimes without much to show for it, except for the details I maintain?  That delightful moment on a walk, or the beauty of the light changing as the clouds drift past, are the memorable features I retain no matter how much time passes.

Each time I stop to look and listen, I discover something new.  There are of course, the Parliament of Rooks, Murder of Crows, or in our case, the Trio (okay, Brood) of Chickens.  They have names now:  Judy, Mabel and Fey.